


World War Remnant

by Calcipher763



Category: RWBY
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-06-11 15:07:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 31,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15318156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calcipher763/pseuds/Calcipher763
Summary: War had been a constant in the life of Calcipher Mordan. The Great War had robbed him of his parents and childhood. A war for power had robbed of his wife, the love of his life. A war of ideals had robbed him of the lives of his children and almost left him with nothing. Yet, despite all these tragedies, it was the war against Salem and her forces that had garnered his attention.With tensions between the kingdoms rising and no one but each other to blame it seems almost inevitable that war will engulf Remnant once more. Ironic considering they have been wagging a war none of them knew about. With Ozpin's death and Atlas closing it's gates to the world, Calcipher makes a decision that will reshape history.Desperate? Maybe. Drastic? Without question. One thing is assured, with himself at the helm, acting as the face of Evil no one knew existed, Remnant is sure to be united in a combined effort to bring him to justice. While it may cost him his life and cement him as the Greatest criminal the world has ever seen, so long as he brings the war to Salem's doorstep it will all be worth it.





	1. Chapter 1: Atlas Burned

**Finally, finished the first revision of my story. So this chapter will look fairly similar to how the first prologue turned out. I’ve changed quite a few things, especially with how the events transpired and consolidated a few scenes from later chapters. Personally I think it turned out better than I could have hoped and I hope you all enjoy this much needed revision of my story.**

* * *

 

Atlas burned or, to be more precise, it was in turmoil. For several weeks a secret war had been waged within its walls, a power struggle between General James Ironwood and an Atlas born mercenary named Calcipher Mordan. While Ironwood had the loyalty of his soldiers on his side, Calcipher had cunning, skill, and knowledge that allowed him to outmaneuver his opponent. With the aid of the people of Atlas, and several well placed individuals within Ironwood’s own ranks, the city, along with all of Mantle, had fallen under his control. Atlas, a nation that had forged itself from the frozen tundra of Mantle and withstood countless assaults by both men and Grimm had fallen from within.

From the confines of the headmaster’s office at the Atlas Academy, Calcipher Mordan starred out onto the city below. In his right hand he held an ornate smoke pipe, one that had been engraved to look like a dragon winding its way around the pipe before becoming the opening from which the tobacco now burned gently. He took a thoughtful drag from his pipe, the dragon’s mouth illuminating at the gesture, before expelling the smoke from his nostrils. His victory, while still fresh, was still far from complete. He had much to do before he could truly claim he had accomplished what he set out to do.

“ _Sir?_ ” the voice of a young woman spoke from the intercom on the desk.

“Yes?” Calcipher replied, pressing a finger to the call button as he spoke.

“ _They’ve arrived_ ,” she said.

“Excellent. Show them in.”

It didn’t take her long to obey his request as moments later the doors to the office swung open to admit several figures, two Atlas soldiers, their prisoner, and a young man and a young woman. The two soldiers forced their prisoner forward before setting him on his knees before the desk. The man looked up at Calcipher, glaring daggers at his foe. Calcipher barely even acknowledged the man’s presence. Despite his heavy loses James Ironwood still had so much pride left within him. It was depressing and almost a little pathetic.

“Thank you, gentleman, you may leave now.”

“Sir, forgive us, but are you certain? He’s a dangerous man,” one of the soldiers tried to argue.

“I’m well aware of how dangerous he is,” Calcipher rebuked him. “However, this wolf has lost his teeth. He’s no more a threat to either of you than he is to myself. Besides, my son will be present the entire time. I’ll be more than adequately protected. Now, you may go until I require you to return him to his cell.”

Satisfied, the two soldiers gave him a sharp salute before exiting the room. Calcipher then turned his gaze on his prisoner and eyed him with unveiled disappointment. Broken, defeated, and currently missing his robotic arm, the former General of Atlas glared at him from his kneeling position on the floor. His uniform which was almost always ironed, starched, and immaculate in appearance was torn, dirty, and had otherwise seen better days. It seemed fitting that the rest of his overall appearance should mirror his suit as he looked as if he’d been dragged through hell. Considering the war that had been wagged between their two respective parties, it wasn’t an over exaggeration to say the least.

“Hello, James, so good of you to join us,” Calcipher said, his tone drowning in sarcasm.

“Considering the circumstances, I can’t say I had much of a choice,” James replied flatly. “I see you’ve made yourself home in my office.”

“No, not your office. This is the office of the Atlas Academy’s headmaster, a place set apart as the abode of the man or woman who is seen as worthy and adequately skilled enough to shape young minds in preparation for the world they are about to face and their futures that they will have to brave outside these walls.” He moved from his position at the window to the front of the desk, his hands gesturing in time with his speech as if he were a real-estate agent describing the interior of a home they were selling to a potential client. As soon as he reached the head of the desk, however, his gaze returned to James, his expression filled with obvious disappointment, as he leaned against it. “You might have been such a man once, but no longer.”

“And I suppose you are,” Ironwood concluded. To his surprise Calcipher chuckled, the man finding some obvious hummer in his words that had somehow eluded the dishonored general.

“No, James, I am not. Unlike you I don’t make it a habit of elevating myself to heights of power where I have no business intruding upon. No, the man or woman who will fill this seat will be someone far more suitable for the position than I. My talents are required elsewhere.”

“Then why bring me here? Why drag me back to my office if not to rub your victory, my defeat, in my face?” Ironwood questioned in an irritated tone.

“You haven’t figured it out yet?” Calcipher asked, a small smile developing in the corners of his face at the look of frustration Ironwood gave him. “This is an institution of learning, James. I brought you here not to brag or bask in my victory. I brought you here to learn. I brought you here so that I might teach you the error of your ways and see if you were willing to learn from your mistakes.”

“You wish to teach me?” Ironwood asked in as exaggerated a manner as he could bring himself to muster.

“Well, as you know, I was a teacher at Beacon, if only for a short while. I must admit, I don’t consider myself the greatest instructor nor the man most suitable for shaping every young mind that wonders the hall of this or any of the huntsman academies. I am, however, willing to teach you if you are willing to learn. A great teacher cannot very well instruct a student who is unwilling to heed the lesson.”

“And what lesson is that, exactly?” Ironwood asked.

“That you’re greatest undoing is, without a doubt, your pride,” he answered, giving him a stern look as he spoke. “I must admit, James, there was a time when I respected you, even admired you. You were ambitious, insightful, loyal. You had all the qualities of a great leader and, had circumstances been different, I might have pledged my allegiance to someone of your caliber. However, overtime your pride began to blind you. You started to believe that you were the only who was right.”

“I was right. If Ozpin had simply listened to me- “

“Exactly!” Calcipher interjected, catching the man off guard. “ _If Ozpin had listened to me_ ,” he repeated in a mocking tone. “If Ozpin had listened to you, if he had done exactly as you had wanted, then thousands more people would have died at the Vytal Festival. Your overreliance on technology and your damn automatons was your greatest weakness, a weakness our enemies exploited, quite efficiently I might add.”

“It was Ozpin’s fault as well. If he had just been more attentive with his security measures then my Paladins would still have remained under my control,” Ironwood argued.

“Actually, James, that fault is yours not his,” Calcipher said in retort. “Tell me, the night the virus that was uploaded at the CCT, when was that?”

“It was during the school dance that precipitated the festival.”

“And was that before or after the breach.”

“Before but I don’t see- “

“Prior the breach,” Calcipher continued, ignoring his interruption, “whose security force was in charge of protecting the CCT?”

Ironwood sneered, averting his gaze to instead look at the floor. Calcipher took no apparent joy from the small victory, though his eyes did take on a brighter sheen to them.

“So, it was your soldiers who were guarding the tower when they were overpowered and the virus was uploaded, wasn’t it?” he continued.

Again, Ironwood said nothing. His expression did all the talking for him, however, as his look of irritation slowly morphed into one of silent furry.

“Which means that, from the very start, it was your own inadequacies that led to your army being hijacked and turned on the people of Vale. Following Beacon’s fall, it was your own pride which continued to lead you to making decisions that placed Atlas in a vulnerable state, allowing me to overthrow its government with relative ease. Yet, despite all these blunders you continue to blame Ozpin for your own incompetence rather than take responsibility for your actions.”

“And what of you, Calcipher?” Ironwood asked, the man in question raising an eyebrow in obvious surprise and intrigue. “What would you have done in my place? Would you have relied on Ozpin? Would you have placed your faith and trust in his abilities?”

“No,” Calcipher answered flatly.

His answer struck Ironwood hard, causing him to hesitate. He hadn’t expected him to answer him so curtly nor to be so blunt.

“You assume far too much about me, James. I may have trusted Ozpin but I never had trust in him.”

“I don’t understand,” Ironwood answered, still perplexed by what his adversary had said.

“I’m not surprised,” he said in the same emotionless tone as before. “Let me elaborate. From the moment I came into Ozpin’s service, I treated him the same way I had learned to treat my previous employers. I trusted them to act according to their nature, to the defaults in their personalities. I trusted Ozpin to act in the best interests of the people of Remnant and that his actions would reflect his desire to keep them safe from the vile being that threatened their existence.

However, I understood that, despite how much the man may have respected us and treated us as equals, we were still nothing more pawns in this little game of theirs. Anyone one whose life was lost to the enemy was considered a _necessary sacrifice_. I trusted him to act in the best interest of Remnant but never with my own life. I knew that, if it came down to it, he would place greater emphasis on protecting the maidens and the relics rather than our lives or the lives of his students.”

“As would I,” Ironwood interjected. “To allow the relics or the maidens to fall into the hands of the enemy then our position would have been compromised.”

“Of that I cannot disagree with,” Calcipher admitted. “However, Ozpin’s method of protecting both was something to be desired. To place his students in danger like that, not to mention pressuring young women into taking on such a heavy responsibility, was irresponsible.”

“We didn’t pressure her into taking on the maiden’s powers. We gave her a choice.”

“Ha!” Calcipher said loudly, the laugh forced and mocking. “Gave her a choice? Please. I was there, James. I heard everything that was said and it was obvious the young woman was expected to take on that responsibility. There was no choice in the matter.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Really? Then explain it to me, James. If, for whatever reason, Pyrrha Nikos had refused, would she have been allowed to walk away, to continue her life as if that conversation had never happened, as if everything that had been revealed to her had never existed?”

Ironwood said nothing. Despite his reluctance to answer, his silence was very telling.

“Of course not,” Calcipher spoke for him. “She never had a choice in the matter. It was expected of her. Just one more expectation among so many that had been heaped on her shoulders. Of course, had she refused, I’m you would have seen to it that she met with an _unfortunate accident_.”

“How dare you insinuate- “Ironwood snapped.

Before he could finish, Calcipher snatched the front of his collar, hoisting the man up so that his eyes were level with his own. He glared back at him, his expression devoid of empathy as he hissed, “tell me I’m wrong, James. Tell me you wouldn’t have had that girl killed to keep what she’d seen and heard secret.”

Despite his best attempts, Ironwood couldn’t maintain his gaze. It was enough for Calcipher as he allowed the man to drop back down to his knees, a particularly disgusted expression spread across his face.

“You never cease to reach new levels of disappointment with me, James. I had such faith in you when we first met but somehow you’ve managed to squander it all in the period of a few months’ time.

You had a chance to rekindle some of it after Beacon’s fall. A simple apology, that’s all it would have taken. Admittance of your guilt, of your failure to maintain control over your army and apologizing to the families who’d lost so much. You never said a word, however. Through it all, you never once attempted to offer them some small bit of sympathy for their losses.

The worst came after. Your decision to halt any export of dust from Atlas to the other kingdoms was a foolish decision. Our relationship with Vale was already in tatters but now you had to add fuel to the flame by cutting off any and all supplies of dust from reaching the rest of the world. Add to that your decision to close off the borders and it’s a wonder there wasn’t rioting in the streets. How you managed to last this long is a mystery I doubt I will ever begin to understand.”

“Understand? I was attempting to protect Atlas. Everything I did was to protect our kingdom from suffering the same fate as Vale. It’s not my fault that the other kingdoms would misinterpret those decisions as hostile actions.”

“Are you truly that delusional?” Calcipher asked in a perplexed tone. “It’s their fault for misinterpreting your actions? They’re the ones at fault, not you?”

Calcipher rubbed the bridge of his nose, his expression a mixture of exhaustion and disbelief. From his position next to the door Jaune Arc, his adopted son, let out a tired sigh of his own. He could truly sympathize with how his father was feeling. He’d met more than a few people much like James Ironwood, all of them self-deluding and egotistical to a fault. Next to him Weiss Schnee glared at the young blond. Her expression was a forced one, however, as she found Ironwood’s actions equally revolting though she would never openly admit it.

“You know, James, I was hoping that our enemy’s accomplishments in being able to overpower your forces and seize control of your armies was merely due to expert planning and well timed execution of their part. Now I see that the answer is so much simpler. The fault lies squarely with you and your pride leading to your own incompetence as a leader and a protector of the people. I see now that my faith in you was greatly wasted. I shall endeavor to do better in the future.

The nations outside these walls understood your actions better than you did. In fact, if you had taken the time to learn what they thought of your policies you just might realize what a horrible mistake you had made. By cutting off the world’s dust supply you made a statement. Atlas is, after all, the number one supplier of dust in the world. It’s like having control of the only water source for miles in the desert. By cutting off the supply so suddenly and without any explanation you set the tone. You made a statement, that in order for them to attain any more dust they either heed your demands or start stealing from one another just to get by. Neither option is very appealing and both would have eventually led to an all-out assault on Mantle, just so they could force open the flood gates and regain what was lost.

The real clincher came when you closed off the borders. You thought it would protect Mantle. You assumed that by closing yourselves off from the rest of the world it would make you safe. To those on the inside, you were merely closing them off, preventing information from leaking. To anyone outside of Mantle your actions would appear to be in preparation for war. They wouldn’t have been wrong. The downside of closing off your borders is that, while you shut everyone else out, whatever enemies you might have had here were shut in with you. That, of course, meant me.”

Calcipher moved from the desk, his focus no longer on James as he looked out the window down to the city below. For a while he remained silent. Jaune know his father was lost in his thoughts, sifting carefully through every action he was about to take, every outcome that could arise as consequence. There are so many ways his plans could go wrong, could go awry. For anyone else such thoughts would be overwhelming, a horrible burden that would leave them unable to act. Jaune knows his father well, however. He knows he is always prepared for the path that lays before him and able to adapt to any surprise changes that might spring up along the way.

“This world requires new leaders. It requires men and women who not only possess the ability to lead but also have the skills necessary to do what they must to ensure our people survive the coming conflict and thrive. They need leaders who are loyal, courageous, humbled, and willing to put their own lives on the line, if necessary, to ensure their people live to see tomorrow.

Atlas is only the start. One by one the other kingdoms will follow suit, either through their own choice or through necessity. I will not stand idly by while corrupt politicians and bureaucrats grow fat on their people’s misery and suffering, ignoring the obvious problems that torment them on a daily basis. If there is one thing regarding our enemy, of this I can say we agree. The leaders of Remnant have lost their way. It’s up to us to put it back on course, to ensure it is set back on a noble path.”

“And you think you’re the man with the skills necessary to accomplish such a task,” Ironwood said, phrasing his words in such a way that they were more a statement than a question, though one that was meant to mock his adversary.

“I am the man who will spearhead this operation, yes, but make no mistake, I have no intention of ruling over the four kingdoms, nor any of them for that matter. My job is merely to remove the filth and corruption that has tainted our governments. Those who will rise to replace them will be men and women who act with the best interest of their people in mind. They will not seek to fulfill their own ambitions. Their goals will be centered around unifying our peoples and building stronger relationships that help to impede any future attempts made by Salem and her servants to bring Remnant to its knees.”

“If that is your goal then you’re a long way from accomplishing it. Take a good look outside, Mordan. Atlas is in tatters. The military is without leadership and as a result the people are being made to suffer. Even now their fear and trepidation are attracting the Grimm. It won’t be long before your men are rushing to defend the walls, ill prepared for what is about to come.”

“Did you honestly think I hadn’t planned for that?” Calcipher asked, his tone mirroring his tone of disgust at being underestimated. “I knew my stunt would tear down the military hierarchy. Once you were out of the way I made sure to establish a chain of command, one which was put in place after I forced you to step aside. Even now they are manning our walls, keeping their eyes peeled for any signs of Grimm incursion. If anything, our people can rest easy knowing that I formed my plans around ensuring their livelihoods went unimpeded.”

At this point he’d returned to Ironwood’s side, kneeling down so he could glare into the man’s eyes. James Ironwood glared back, a defeated scowl etched across his face. It was obvious his tactics were being out maneuvered at every turn.

“Now, if you’re finished grasping at straws in the hopes of finding some flaw in my plans, we can move onto more important matters. I’m sure you’re eager to know who I choose to take your place as the leader of Atlas.”

“I’d be giddy with anticipation if I weren’t handcuffed and on the floor,” Ironwood answered in a sarcastic tone.

Calcipher chuckled, obviously amused by the man’s tactful humor. “Well, all things considered, James, I very much think you’ll like who I’ve picked out. In fact, I guarantee this decision is one that both you and I can agree on, if you can believe it.”

James rolled his eyes but otherwise kept them glued to Calcipher. He didn’t like the way he was phrasing it and he was certain he wouldn’t like knowing who from among his many enemies he’d chosen as his successor.

“ _Yes sir?_ ” the secretary asked as Calcipher pressed the intercom button.

“Send her in please.”

“ _Right away, sir._ ”

There was a momentary pause as they listened for the sound of muffled footsteps outside the office door. It wasn’t long before the doors opened to admit their new guest and a single person entered the room. Of all the people there half of them starred at her with a mixture of astonishment and disbelief while the others showed no such signs that her presence was anything but expected. Ironwood and Weiss looked to her, each attempting to collect their thoughts as they tried to ascertain just how Calcipher had gotten to her or what her reasons were for joining his side.

There was little doubt that she was a military officer. The manner in which she held herself spoke volumes as she stood at attention with her hands clasped at her back. Her uniform was crisp, clean, and without a hint of a blemish, an image that mirror her snow white hair which was immaculately tied in a tight bun with not a single strand of hair out of place. The only thing that seemed out of place was the pair of insignia she wore on her lapel, signifying her rank as General of the Atlas military. To anyone else it would seem almost fate that Winter Schnee would one day replace Ironwood but in that moment neither her sister nor the defeated general kneeling at her feet could fathom the thought of her enforcing Calcipher’s regime.

“General Winter Schnee, reporting as requested, sir.” 

* * *

 

**Several Hours Earlier**

Winter Schnee sat waiting in the interrogation room, her hands cuffed to the table. Breaking out of the room would have been a small feat for the young woman. With her skills and training it would have been child’s play for her to escape, even weaponless. However, Winter was not there against her will. On the contrary, she had surrendered, a fact that still hung over her head like a dark cloud. Even now her head was bowed out of disappointment, unable to even gaze upon her reflection in the one-way mirror. No doubt she would see that same disappointment starring back at her, the woman reflected in the glass disgusted with the girl who had allowed herself to be brought to such a low point in her career. How had it happened?

The answer to that was simple. Winter had allowed it to happen. It was her own oversight and overconfidence that had led to her defeat. She had underestimated her enemy and he had in turn taken full advantage of the opportunity it had afforded him. It should have been so obvious. It should have been starring her right in the face from the very moment Atlas came under attack. Why hadn’t she acted on it? The answer, unfortunately, was one she did not want to admit to herself. Shame and guilt tore at her heart, her total disregard for what was truly important to her being thrown in her face the moment Jaune Arc walked into that briefing room and slide his scroll across the table. It was a moment she would never forget nor ever live down.

Not long after General Ironwood returned to Atlas, news came from the top brass of an inquiry into the General’s decisions and actions during what was being coined as _The Vale Tragedy_ which would ultimately determine the fate of his career. To say that this news had taken her by surprise was an understatement as the young woman had begun an investigation of her own in order to determine what exactly had transpired in Vale not long after her departure. Through various resources she was able to determine that, through some means unbeknownst to them, the entirety of Atlas’s cybernetic infantry had been hijacked, along with their fleet. This, along with an unfortunate accident orchestrated during one of the Vytal Festival’s matches, caused mass panic to sweep through the coliseum. The result was catastrophic as the large concentration of negative activity, further fanned by the appearance of the White Fang, attracted the attention of a large number of Grimm which proceeded to storm the city.

The death toll had been immense.

Thankfully, Weiss’ name had not been among the list of a casualties, a detail which brought Winter immense relief despite her belief in her sister’s skills and ability to survive. What had at first been perplexing, however, was seeing Torchwick’s name on the list instead. As she recalled, the criminal had been taken into Atlesian custody shortly after the Breach. Thinking on it, as well as the fact that the destruction of their lead ship had led to their mechanical army being powered down, caused Winter to surmise that the criminal had wanted to be captured, giving himself easy access to their ship from where he could take full control.

The means by which he’d escaped, not to mention hijacked their army, was something she would have liked to delve into, if only to prevent something similar from happening in the future. Unfortunately, any evidence of his tampering had been destroyed along with their ship, though, it seemed he had paid for it with his life. While Winter felt some grim satisfaction in knowing karma had caught up to the man, it was a fact she would never openly admit. She was a Schnee, after all. She had an image to maintain.

Three months, that’s how long it took for the inquiry to be resolved. While many had voiced their opinions that General Ironwood should be ordered to step down, the overall consensus had been that he be allowed to maintain his rank and position. Winter was more than a little relieved to know this. She knew Ironwood was not at fault so why should he be made to suffer for something he could not have prevented. The events at Vale had sparked something in Ironwood, though, a new life that hadn’t been seen in the man in quite some time. The moment he was allowed to return to his position he began work on strengthening Atlas in order to prevent the same events that had engulfed Vale to happen to them. Had she been more attentive, more rational in her thinking, she might have seen what was happening. She hadn’t, however. Like the loyal soldier she was she simply stood by and did just as she was told. She had been a fool.

Ironwood, free of the charges, began making drastic changes to Atlas. The first came in the form of their trade laws. All at once the exporting of Dust ceased and with it a large chunk of the profits that came in from around the world. While Ironwood made sure the military didn’t suffer for the consequences of her actions, Winter wasn’t as greatly concerned with a dip in her paycheck as she was with the toll this would take on the people of Atlas as a whole. Despite what many may have assumed, the profits brought in from the exporting of Dust benefited more than just the SDC. Ever since her grandfather, Nicholas Schnee, first discover the Dust mines within Mantle, their entire economy and livelihoods became tied to the product. One might say it was the very foundation of their society and by removing it they would remove the only guarantee they had of standing on solid ground. Many voiced their concerns with Ironwood’s brash decision, most notably her father. Many were unhappy with his decision and through it all Winter kept silent. She trusted Ironwood. He had never led her astray in the past. She would remain loyal to him. She was a soldier, after all, and in the end the only thing a soldier had left was their loyalty.

It would be nearly half a year before the second of Ironwood’s political decisions was put forth and Winter found herself at greater odds with her superior’s decisions. Fearing for the safety of Atlas, Ironwood had ordered all borders leading in and out of the continent to be closed off. All military personnel currently stationed outside of Mantle had been recalled and anyone seeking entry or leave from Mantle were required to have a special permit, signed by Ironwood himself, allowing them to do so. While Ironwood thoughts his actions just, Winter saw them for what they truly were. James Ironwood, General of the Atlas military and holder of two seats on the Atlas council, had effectively turned their country into a prison with himself as warden.

Winter was conflicted. She could no longer fool herself in believing that following Ironwood’s decisions was the right course of action. She respected the man and had trusted in his decisions and ideals but his time in Vale had changed him. He was shutting out the world and turning on anyone who he saw as disloyal or a threat. How long before he looked at her that way? How long before he saw her as a threat or worse attempted to harm her family? Her best course of action would be to strike first but how could she do such a thing? While Winter wrestled with her loyalties to Atlas and the reality of what was happening to her home, another arose who showed no such conflict, only determination.

She shouldn’t have been surprised but somehow it caught her off guard all the same. A coup d’état, led by Calcipher Mordan, rose up and overthrew Ironwood in an instant. Within days the Atlas military headquarters was under his control along with a vast majority of their military’s resources. From there he moved swiftly, expanding his territory and influence in a bid to place all of Mantle under his control. Had it been Ironwood she might have hesitated but against Calcipher she felt no such conflict. With renewed determination focused on a new foe, Winter gathered as many soldiers still loyal to Atlas and made a stand at the council building. They held, against impossible odds they maintained their hold over their small patch of freedom.

The ever increasing defeats that the enemy was mounting up helped to fuel her troop’s moral but Winter did not share in their revelries of victory. Something was off. Calcipher wasn’t utilizing everything at his disposal and this caused a subtle wave of fear to wash over her whenever she looked towards the academy.

The moment Calcipher had taken their headquarters he’d gained access to their greatest weapons including their vast naval fleet. Hundreds of Atlas battlecruisers, all equipped with cannons capable of turning their small building into a pile of rubble and ash. Even something as simple as a cargo ship was more than a match for them, not simply because of its armaments but rather it’s capability of dropping a dozen or more Atlas paladins onto their heads, metal cannon fader that could be easily replaced. It was obvious to her that Calcipher was planning something but what?

Her answer came a few days later when a young boy about Weiss’ age with blond hair made his way towards the front gates of the building. Unarmed and hands held high, he came under a banner of a truce and requested an audience with Winter Schnee. Despite the protests of her officers, Winter allowed him entry. Curiosity at Calcipher’s tactics and the realization that he could have destroyed them ages ago but had chosen not to weigh heavily on her mind. Whoever this boy was he was not intended to kill her.

She met with him in one of the briefing rooms, her sitting at the desk while the boy stood on the opposite side. He introduced himself as Jaune Arc, Calcipher’s adopted son, and claimed that he come here voluntarily to issue an ultimatum to her. Before she could ask any questions of her own the boy slide a scroll across the table and instructed her to look at the pictures displayed there. Winter grabbed the scroll, keeping her eyes focused on the boy, before flicking the screen and found them glued to it. Before her were various images of her family members, including her sister, held captive by Calcipher.

“They are in good health and will remain as such should you do as we ask. Surrender and your family will go free.”

If the boy had said more or intended to, Winter was unsure. All she knew was that rage had overtaken her as he saber left her side and found it’s tip hovering just inches from Jaune’s neck. The boy made no move to counter. In fact, he showed no signs of fear whatsoever. His calm, collected attitude, while admirable, disturbed Winter more than she cared to admit. Before long he bid her goodbye and left, the scroll still in her hands as she contemplated what had just happened. She laughed. It was all she could do. She’d been defeated before she even had a chance to fight back. Realizing it now it should have been obvious but she had been so deluded, so determined to retake Atlas from someone she was convinced was the real enemy that she didn’t realize he’d out maneuvered her before she even had a chance to take a single step. A few hours later she surrendered.

Now she sat in this interrogation room, awaiting the arrival of her captor. Various scenarios flashed through her mind. She could just imagine the man himself, how pompous and arrogant he would be. The very thought of having been outsmarted, out maneuvered by such a man angered her to no end. Even while handcuffed she would still be able to overtake him and the moment he let his guard down she would strike. Her thoughts were soon interrupted as the door to the interrogation room creaked open. Winter’s gaze snapped to the doorway, the image of the man she had borne into her mind at the forefront, and was momentarily surprised to see he looked nothing like she’d suspected.

The man himself was tall, taller even than Ironwood who was himself a good foot above most men. The pudgy, grotesque physique she’d imagined was anything but as he was well built and toned with not a trace of fat on the skin that was exposed. Despite being middle-aged he looked fairly young, his hair cropped short in a military fashion. His overall uniform was sleek and built for combat though notably devoid of any sort of weaponry, obviously to prevent Winter from using it against him. As he pushed the door open she noticed he was carrying a pitcher of water in one hand and a pair of glasses in the other.

He walked calmly over to the desk, set down the glasses before filling them both, then slid a glass over to her before taking a long drink of his own. When Winter made no move to sip her own he gazed at her in confusion before a spark of realization flitted across his eyes and he produced a small key which he used to unlock her handcuffs. All of this surprised Winter while at the same time put her more on guard. It was obvious he didn’t consider her a threat and even more so considered himself more than a match to subdue her should she retaliate.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said in a sincere manner, “you have no idea how much paperwork is involved in running a government. It’s a wonder James ever got anything done.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t take that into account when you decided to stab Ironwood in the back. Tell me, did you even consider the implications, the consequences of your actions that would arise from your rebellion or were you just so focused on seizing control that you didn’t even care?”

The guilt and anger Winter had been holding within boiled over, directing itself at the only other person in the room aside from herself. In truth all of it had been meant for her but Calcipher was an easy, if not willing, target and she was all too happy to alleviate herself of these negative feelings through him. In all honesty the man took it well. He showed no signs of having been insulted or offended by what she’d said. Like a parent listening to their child throw a tantrum he waited patiently for her to finish before replying.

“You haven’t touched your water,” he pointed out, completely evading her previous questions.

“Did you hear a word I just said?”

“Yes, all of it in fact. I simply noticed you haven’t touched your water. I understand you’ve been waiting in here for quite some time so I assumed you’d be thirsty.”

“I have no desire to sample anything you have to offer me,” she replied in a snide tone.

“Oh? Why is that? Afraid I might have poisoned the water? No, not the water. The cup, perhaps?” he mused.

Without waiting for an answer he sized the glass and drained its contents. As soon as the last drop had slid down the glass he held it out and upside down in an exaggerated display. “See, perfectly safe. If you’re thirsty I can get you another glass. I’m sure you’d prefer not to drink from the same cup as myself. If you’d like something I can have someone- “

“I’d prefer it if you answered my questions!” she interrupted.

Calcipher, who had been caught by surprise at her sudden outburst, relaxed his face into a tired smile. He set the glass back down, leaning back in his seat as he regarded the young woman sitting across from him with obvious interest.

“You haven’t changed. Even when you were just a toddler you were just as impatient,” he said. When he noticed the confused, disbelieving look she shot him he continued, “Tell me, Miss Schnee, why do you think I never took you into custody sooner? Why did I allow you and those still loyal to Ironwood to remain isolated in the council building for so long unimpeded? Did you think I was incapable of simply storming the building and taking you by force?”

“Of course not. I’m not so arrogant to think we had any chance of repelling an assault by you and your conspirators nor was I so naïve to think you were incapable of taking us by force. You have complete control over our armies and navies. It would have been child’s play for you to waltz right up to the front doors and demand our immediate surrender. I simply believed you had deferred your forces to some other purpose.”

“How very astute of you and right on the nose, I might add. You are correct in your observations. Eliminating your rebels would have been as simple as pressing a switch and watching as the cannons on our cruisers reduced you and yours to ashes. Now that it’s been established, why do you think I took so long getting around to you?”

“I’m not sure. Why don’t you tell me? You’re obviously dying to inform me, anyway.”

Calcipher said nothing to her in response. His expression, having shifted into neutral, didn’t change. He instead poured himself another glass, took a thoughtful sip, savoring the taste, before finally giving her an answer.

“Earlier you ask if I had considered the consequences of my actions. I had. In fact, I had predicted a great deal of what transpired not long after I removed James from power. Atlas dissolved into panic. Fear gripped the hearts of many Atlesians, all wondering what was to become of them and their futures. That fear, of course, attracted the attention of the Grimm.

The moment I had James in custody I immediately turned my attention towards seizing control of our armies and navies. I knew that, once word spread of my _hostile takeover_ , for lack of a better term, that the ensuing fear and panic would draw the Grimm in mass like sharks who’d caught the scent of blood in the water. Needless to say my prediction was right. I doubt you’ve had a chance to see what the border walls along the frontier look like but, for the first few days, it was an ocean of darkness as far as the eye could see. We’ve only just brought things under control but it’s only a matter of time before something else stirs up the Grimm once more and has them hounding at our gates.”

While Winter would never admit it, certainly not to her captor of all people, she was grateful that he had overlooked her and followers, instead opting to focus his attention on the encroaching hoard of Grimm. The fact that she had been relegated to playing second fiddle, which in any other situation would have been insulting if not downright offensive, was something she could respect when considering the overall safety and well wellbeing of their citizens. Regardless, though, it didn’t dismiss his actions which had led to this point in time. He was still a usurper and that was something she could never allow herself to overlook.

“I see, so strategically I was unimportant,” she concluded.

“Don’t sell yourself so short, Miss Schnee. Were you unimportant we wouldn’t be sitting here, having this conversation. You were simply not my highest priority at the time. Now, however, you have my complete undivided attention.”

“Then I am to assume your presence here is to try and convince me to support you in your takeover of Atlas?”

“Eh, in a manner,” he admitted.

“Then forget it,” she snarled. “My loyalty is to Atlas and its people, not you. I would sooner die, running my saber through my heart, than betray my people to swear loyalty to you.”

“You know what I find rather humorous about our little exchange here? You think you’re insulting me, defying me by refusing what you perceive to be an offer on my part for you to join my regime. The irony is that you couldn’t be further from the truth. I have no intention of recruiting you to my cause. I brought you here for a completely different reason, one closer to home, in more ways than one.”

“And what could that possibly be?” she spat.

Rather than answer her, Calcipher instead reached a hand into his combat vest. Winter tensed, her aura activating as she prepared for a weapon of some sort to fly across the table and imbed itself into her flesh. Calcipher noticed this and chuckled, obviously amused by her reaction, before removing his hand once more. It was empty, or appeared to be, but his hands were clenched shut. He reached across the table, depositing its contents with an audible clink of metal on metal before retracting his hand once more.

Winter’s eyes never wavered from Calcipher. Even when he placed the item on the table, hers remained fix on his face, studying his expression. The amused and joking facade had faded, set now in a firm, serious expression that seemed almost foreign for the man yet at the same time seemed almost natural, as if he had worn it so often before that to see him without it would feel strange. She finally allowed herself to gaze down and was confused by what she saw set before her.

She had seen them often enough. Her first time had been when she entered the Atlas Academy and watched as General Ironwood gave his welcoming speech. She’d seen the insignia clipped to his lapel, polished and immaculate like the rest of his uniform yet they somehow stood out. Perhaps it was the fact that, to reach such heights required a great deal of skill, patience, and determination. Though she would never admit it, Winter would sometimes fantasize about one day wearing those same insignia on her lapel as well. The thought had made her giddy at the time but, as she grew older and more experienced, she’d found a greater satisfaction came from simply serving her people and working under General Ironwood himself.

To see them now, though, sitting on the interrogation table confused her. What was he getting at? What was the purpose? Was he attempting to make a veiled threat, as if to say he’d removed Ironwood and would do the same to her? No, not likely. Calcipher had shown he was more than capable or willing to remove someone who was in his way publicly. It obviously didn’t bother him who knew it. So why, why place them before her? What was their purp-!

The realization struck her like an Ursa’s paw to the face. Her eyes instantly flicked to his, hoping, praying it was all a joke. The icy cold realization spread slowly through her body as his stone carved expression looked back. He was serious about this. It wasn’t a joke. It wasn’t a game. He was offering to make her a General.

“No,” she spoke softly.

“Winter,” he replied, his tone firm as if her were speaking to an unruly child.

“I refuse,” she said, her tone loud and defiant.

“Be reasonable, Winter,” he tried to argue.

“Reasonable? You’re attempting to bribe me with a promotion and you want me to be reasonable?”

“Yes, because you still think I want you to work for me, under me, and it’s anything but. I have no intention of ruling over Atlas and its people. My work requires my presence elsewhere.”

“So you’re running away? You’re going to take your men, our armies, our resources, and leave us to fend for ourselves against the Grimm? Ha, you’re more of a coward than I thought.”

“Damn it Winter, that is enough!” he roared, rising to his feet.

Winter was on her feet as well, glaring across the table at her captor. The two were locked eye to eye, neither giving the other a reprieve. After a moment Calcipher relented, his gaze softening as a tired sigh escaped from his lips. Though the man was only fifty-five years old he had seen and done much in that time. It was not uncommon for hunters and even soldiers at his age to retire, the stress of the lives they’d led taking their toll on them.

“Winter, child, I want to make one thing perfectly clear,” he said, his tone exhausted, “I have no intention of abandoning Atlas and its people. I have no intention of leaving them defenseless, leaderless, naked before the enemy while I race off to my next destination. I overthrew Ironwood, yes, and I would do so again because he has become a blight on this people. Under his leadership they were suffering, suffocating. You of all people must have noticed.

I removed a man I believed to be a cancer and now I’m replacing him with someone I believe can help Atlas to heal and possibly grow stronger under their guidance. Winter, my being here and offering you the rank of General isn’t a bribe, it’s a request. I’m asking you to take up James’ mantle. I’m asking you to lead your people.”

Winter was silent, his words sincere though heavy. While her suspicions persisted she couldn’t help but feel somehow he spoke the truth. Still, something was bothering her. Of all the people to ask to replace Ironwood why choose her? She held no loyalties to him, no obligations. Aside from a few brief exchanges here and there they’d never really come to know one another. How then could he have judged her as being fit to lead?

“Why?” she asked.

The question, while broad, was not so cryptic so as to cause him to wonder.

“Did you know that I was raised by your grandfather, Nicholas?” he asked.

Winter cocked an eyebrow, the action earning her a chuckle from the man.

“I don’t mean he adopted me and raised me in secret. I came to live with him and your mother as her personal bodyguard. I was an employee, a man who had no business being seen as anything more than a hired hand. Yet, he treated me with kindness and respect. He never shied away from asking me to sit with him and his family at meals or to speak to him as plainly as I’m speaking with you now. I was there as a bodyguard and yet he treated me like a son.

When you and your siblings were born I paid a great deal of attention to your progress. I was interested not only in what you would accomplish but in what ways you would develop. I wanted to see how much of that man I came to love and respect resided in you. You were the first, Winter, and you did not disappoint. Even from a young age I saw a great deal of that man’s spirit in you and despite your father’s best efforts to stamp it out you defied him at every turn. That’s not to say you didn’t learn from him. On the contrary, you took his lessons and learned everything you needed to succeed, to excel, and then left him behind completely, stronger than he could have ever hoped.

I am a soldier, Winter. I have been ever since I was a child. As such a soldier’s abilities are limited to two areas of expertise; protect our people and kill our enemies. I’ve proven quite effective with the latter and as for the former,” he paused for a moment, his eyes growing misty and distant before remembering where he was, “well, it could use some improvement. That being said, my ability to lead people on the battlefield does not translate to being able to lead them in the civilian sector. I am useless here. They need someone better, someone who knows how best to guide them.

You are a soldier, Winter, but you are also well versed in politics. You know how to navigate that battlefield and it gives you an immense advantage over me. You also feel a great deal of loyalty towards your people and that makes you irreplaceable. I’m giving you this rank, child, as a request on their behalf. Lead your people, Winter. Be the person they can depend on, that they can trust to hold their best interests at heart without question. Please.”

While Winter had her misgivings about the man, and she had many of them, she nonetheless found his speech sincere and heartfelt. She looked once more to the insignia still sitting on the table, the light from the florescent lighting over heart reflecting off their polished surface. She picked them up, gazing at them in the palm of her hand as she careful considered her next move.

“The army and navy?” she asked.

“Leadership and power over them will be transferred directly to you. I’ll be sure to update you on what tasks I’ve assigned everyone.”

“Ironwood?”

“Currently in our custody. He’ll be your responsibility once I’m gone. I can’t exactly drag him around with me.”

“My men?”

“Released to your care.”

“My family?”

“Safe, unharmed, and under your protection. All except for your sister, that is,” he said before quickly adding when Winter’s gaze turned hostile, “I’m sending her and my son Jaune to meet up with their teams from Beacon in Mistral. It was her intention to reunite with them prior to the border closure. I see little reason to keep them separate. They’ll be perfectly safe, I assure you.”

She silently, though reluctantly, accepted his words. Taking a moment, she reached up to her lapel, removing her Specialist insignia before replacing them with the General’s. While the two were made of the same material, they felt almost heavier for some reason. Winter knew why that was and though she would usually scoff at such superstition, right now she could think of no other plausible explanation.

“So,” she asked, “what’s our next move?” 

* * *

**Now…**

“James, allow me to introduce your replacement. I’m sure there’s no need for introductions,” Calcipher said, unable to hide the smirk that spread across his face as he looked at Ironwood’s disbelief.

“What the hell is this?” he managed to hiss.

“It’s exactly what it looks like. Winter will be taking over your duties as the head of the Atlas military and overall protector of Mantle. Honestly, I thought she was the perfect choice. If nothing else, you made sure she had all the qualifications necessary. Not to mention the fact she’s built up such an ironclad reputation within the military that it’s doubtful anyone would question her taking the reins from you.”

“So she’s a traitor!” Ironwood snapped.

“Traitor insinuates that she was working with me from the beginning. She isn’t a traitor, not by any means. In truth, it took a great deal of effort for me to convince her this was the right course of action. She truly is a cut above the rest.”

“That’s it then? You replace me with her and use her as a pawn to run Atlas?”

“Not exactly. I have no intention of running Atlas, let alone sticking around. Winter doesn’t work for me, in any form or fashion. She works for the people of Atlas. Her loyalties lie strictly with them and them alone.”

“Where does that leave me?”

“Honestly, that depends on your people. Personally, I’d just leave you in a cell and be done with it but they may have bigger plans for you. That being said, my job here is done. I’ve already turned everything over to General Schnee so I’ll be pulling out.”

“And where will you be going from here?” Ironwood questioned.

Rather than answer him, Calcipher gave him a coy smile, one that seemed almost crafted to both mock him and elude to something greater. Without answering him, Calcipher instead pressed the intercom on the desk, signaling the secretary.

“ _Yes sir?”_

“James is ready to be returned to his cell.”

“ _Understood, I’ll send them in._ ”

No sooner had the words been spoken when the doors to the officer swung open and two MPs waltzed in before taking hold of Ironwood and hauling him to his feet. Despite his defeat the man still struggled. His eyes bore into Calcipher, pure unfiltered hatred burning behind his irises.

“This isn’t the end, Mordan!” he yelled as he was dragged away. “I will make you pay for this! Mark my words, you will pay!”

His words became more and more inaudible as the distance grew, leaving the four of them to stand in awkward silence.

“So, General, I trust that everything is in order,” Calcipher said, attempting the break the silence.

“Indeed. Everything is as it should be.”

“Very good. Well, if you’ll excuse us, we should be taking our leave.”

“A moment please,” she said, stopping him at the door. “I’d like a moment with my sister, if it’s not too much to ask?”

“Of course. Jaune and I will be waiting outside.”

Calcipher motioned to his son who didn’t need to be told twice. They quickly shut the doors behind them, leaving the sisters to silently stare at one another, neither one of them quite certain of what they should say.

“It’s good to see you again, Weiss. I’m sorry that it had to be under such unfortunate circumstances.”

“It’s understandable,” Weiss said politely. “Winter, if I may ask, why did you agree to work with Mordan? Was Ironwood correct in saying you’ve changed allegiances?” she asked, getting straight to the point.

“He was and he wasn’t,” Winter stated, her answer as vague as it was short. “My allegiance has always been to and will always be with Atlas. That has not changed in the slightest. My allegiance with Mordan is more opportunistic than an alliance of power. He holds no authority over me or our people. At best you might call it an allegiance of convenience.”

“So when he said that you’ll be working for the people of Atlas?”

“He meant every word,” Winter concluded. “In return I’ve agreed to provide him aid should he ever call upon us. For some reason he seems convinced it will somehow involve you and your team from Beacon. Usually I’d have thought him delusional but, after seeing the records from your first year there, as well as the revelation that you were attempting to escape Atlas to meet up with your team in Mistral, I’ve come to realize that the man may have more insight than I gave him credit for.”

“Indeed,” Weiss admitted. “Will I see you again, sister?”

“That depends. My duties will keep me here, for the most part, but should your travels lead you back home know that my doors will always be open to you and your friends.”

Their parting, while short, was nonetheless sweet. Winter embraced her younger sister, holding back tears that threatened to cascade down her cheeks. No, she wouldn’t allow it. She was a Schnee and now the leader of Atlas. She had an image to keep. Before her sister could completely escape her embrace, however, she whispered softly to her.

“Don’t place all your trust in Mordan.”

“I know.”

“I don’t think you do. I’m not saying he’s not to be trusted. You can trust him to a certain extent but not fully.”

“How do you mean?”

“There is an edge to that man. He means well, of that I have no doubt, but it feels almost as if he expects this to be his end. Make sure it does not become yours as well.”

Weiss gave her a quizzical look but Winter waved it off casually. She then opened the doors, revealing both Calcipher and Jaune waiting patiently for the pair to finish.

“Thank you for that. I wish you all safe journeys.”

“And to you I wish the best in your new position,” Mordan echoed, giving her a firm handshake before leading the children down the hall and out of sight. 

* * *

“This is where we must part ways, I’m afraid,” Mordan said.

Calcipher, along with his adopted son Jaune and Weiss Schnee, had walked in relative silence down to the hangars. While that time was typically spent in deep conversation between Jaune and himself, with the addition of the young heiress it had quickly become an awkward affair. Neither had wanted to start a conversation that might inevitably leave her out but they weren’t entirely sure she’d want to speak with either of them. The circumstances that had brought them together were anything but pleasant and the thought of her using it as a means to kill any attempt at a pleasant conversation had soiled the idea before it had a chance to take root.

“My transport is in another hangar. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you two to be cautious but, regardless, watch each other’s backs out there.”

“We will, father. You have no need to worry about us,” Jaune chided.

“I’m fairly certain it’s because I worry that you’ve managed to live this long,” Calcipher shot back.

The two fell into a chuckle before giving each other a firm hug and departing. Now left alone with Weiss, Jaune felt unnaturally nervous. Stealing a glance towards her he noticed she was purposely averting her gaze, a fact that he found strangely calming.

“We’ll be taking off soon. You two should probably climb aboard and get comfortable,” their pilot instructed.

They nodded their agreement and quickly clambered into the air craft where Jaune choose a seat with Weiss taking one opposite his and a few feet away. He smirked, amused at her attempt to put some distance between them, before reaching into his pocket to withdraw a bottle of airsick pills. While he’d gained a fairly good bit of control over his airsickness, their flight was due to be a long one and he didn’t trust himself to hold out the entire time. As soon as he popped a couple and swallowed, he turned his attention towards Weiss.

The tension between them was thick enough that he could have cut through it with his sword. His actions here in Atlas had effectively soured their once pleasant relationship and it didn’t look to be improving anytime soon. Still, Jaune saw little reason to spend their entire trip ignoring one another and, given the fact they would be meeting up with their teams once more, he felt it best if they tackle the issue now while they had some spare time.

“I know you’re disappointed in me,” he said, making sure his voice carried down to her. Weiss made no indication that she’d heard him but a slight change in her expression told him she’d heard his voice. “Holding it all in isn’t going to be beneficial for our relationship, our friendship,” he added, knowing she’d bristle at the previous insinuation, “just say what you need to say. Be as honest as you want, I can take it. We’re going to be working together and I’d rather it be on mutual terms.”

Weiss didn’t say anything. He wasn’t surprised. If anything he took it as a good sign. He knew Weiss was taking his words seriously and giving careful consideration to her response. It was only after the airship had started its engines and began lift off that she finally found the words.

“You called us friends,” she said.

“Yes, I did,” he agreed, wondering where she was going with this.

“All the secrets, the lies, the carefully laid plans. Every movement and action you took from beginning to now was with a purpose and still you called us your friends.” Her gaze shifted, locking onto his own. Jaune felt his stomach rumble with apprehension, either from the turbulence or the sharp glare he was getting, he couldn’t quite tell.

“Yes, you were my friends,” he said, assuming her previous statement required a response.

“So was that a code, a term meant to label temporary pawns in you and your father’s ever expanding schemes or was it simply a playful pet name of your own design?” she asked in a snide tone.

Jaune was puzzled by the question before his mind slowly unraveled what she was insinuating. His confusion soon gave way to a dull pain as he realized that she thought he’d seen them all as tools, a means to an end. She thought he never really cared about the bonds he’d forged with each of them and that hurt him more than anything.

“It was no code,” he said, speaking softly, “I considered each and everyone of you to be my friends. I cared for each of you. For all your faults and the antics you dragged me into,” he said, giving her a knowing look that had her shifting her gaze, a blush rising in her cheeks, “the time I spent with you all is precious to me.”

“And Pyrrha?” Weiss shot back.

Her comment was like a spear to the heart. Pyrrha had been a friend, that much was for certain, but in other ways she had been more. Thinking on her was not something he often did, mostly due to the unfortunate circumstances that led to her demise. He still had dreams about that night as well, fighting along side his partner against a newly empowered Fall Maiden in the form of Cinder Fall and watching as the woman tossed them around like rag dolls before impaling her with an arrow. The only saving grace had been Ruby’s timely arrival to force the woman to retreat but by then it was too late. All that had remained of her was ashes and the few accessories that hadn’t been burned by Cinder’s flames.

“Pyrrha was my friend, my partner,” he said, unwilling to admit the deeper, more unspoken feelings he had to himself, let alone Weiss.

“She loved you,” Weiss pointed out.

“I know,” he admitted.

“She really cared for you and we thought you felt the same.”

“She meant more to me than you realize.”

“Then why didn’t you ever tell her?”

“It’s not that simple, Weiss.”

“I beg to differ,” she challenged.

“You assume far too much,” he countered. “Pyrrha isn’t the only person I’ve lost. She isn’t the only person I had who was precious to me, who I had to watch die because I wasn’t strong enough, wasn’t skilled enough to protect them. I’m alive because of their sacrifices and that means I have a debt which I may never be able to repay.”

“A debt or a vendetta?” Weiss clarified.

“You’ll just have to wait and see,” he said.

For the remainder of their flight they would stay in relative silence, neither speaking any further for fear of what they might let something they would regret slip. Predictably, fate would have other plans. It would not be long before they found themselves assailed by Grimm and thrown to the mercies of the Branwen tribe. That, however, is not where our story shall be headed to just yet.

For now we must turn back the clock. Back before the fall of Beacon, before the birth of Jaune Arc, before many of the events that took place. For now we must return to Atlas, to the dark underbelly of the city where only the strong and desperate survive. Here is where the story begins as a young boy with nothing is offered the chance to claim everything.

* * *

**And so our time with Jaune and Weiss comes to an end for an unspecified amount of time. In all seriousness, though, the members of team RWBY and JNPR along with the rest of their friends won’t be seen for quite some time so you’ll need to get used to that.**

**As part of my consolidation of the timelines I decided to start with the beginning of Calcipher’s history and worked my way forward from there. It will make certain events easier to write, make things a little easier to understand as the story progresses, and all around allows me to develop him as a character as well as consider some potential OCs for late down the line. Focusing on a non-RWBY cannon storyline will also allow me to work on the later chapters I have planned for when their teams return to Atlas. All in all, I suspect at least two, maybe three, more volumes of the show will have dropped by the time I’ve caught up which will give me a lot of material to work with.**

**Whelp, hope you all enjoyed this rewrite. Let me know your thoughts in the comments and I’ll see you next chapter.**


	2. Chapter 2: Small Beginnings

**Atlas – 30 years post Great War**

The truth, when it comes to war, is that there is no truth. History is written by the victors, those who would have only the noble aspects of what occurred remembered while the vile and heinous actions perpetrated by both sides becomes forgotten, buried beneath mounds of lies and half-truths. There is but one truth that is a certainty in all aspects of war. There are those whose actions cause suffering and those who are made to suffer for their actions. Such a truth became the basis for many lives after the nations of Mantle and Mistral were brought to a standstill. The fighting may have stopped but the suffering would take generations to quell.

While many were able to pick up the pieces of their shattered lives and move on, not everyone was so fortunate. The worst hit lost everyone and everything they had, left to wallow and fester on the streets of Atlas. Here there were no laws, only two distinct rules.

Survive and don't die.

Though similar in philosophy, both rules were distinct in the manner in which they were executed. Surviving meant more than simply finding food. It meant having a place to sleep, out running pursuers, or evading the malicious gaze of a group of scroungers looking for an easy target. Yes, survival took on many forms and had many definitions. All of them, however, related in kind to achieving the second rule. Don't die. Every action meant to help you survive would help you to follow that second rule. Don't die.

For some, honoring both rules wasn't always an option. Sometimes you weren't fast enough. Sometimes you weren't strong enough. Sometimes you trusted someone when you should have been watching your back. Of course, in some cases death was far more advantageous compared to other outcomes. Often times one's need to survive led you to some risky ventures that could you leave your mind and body broken. He'd seen what happened to kinds of people. Being broken was a far worse fate than death. Being broken meant you were dead inside but somehow still alive. Knowing this, it was always wise to avoid accepting the charity of others, especially when they looked dangerous.

The boy had no name. He might have at one point but he'd left the orphanage long before he'd learned what it was. Back then he'd always been "boy," a term the sisters would shriek out when they wanted to grab his attention or punish him, often times both. He'd tolerated them for as long as he could before he made his escape. All things considered, life on the streets was much more preferred. Granted he didn't have a bed to sleep in or three meals a day but he had freedom and that was worth more to him than anything he'd had back there. Now, however, it seemed that freedom would be taken from him, torn from his arms by the three men who stood towering over him.

He didn't recognize the men at all. Sure, he knew what adults were but the adults that stood over him weren't pudgy like the butcher who he could sometimes get bits of meat from or scraggly like the backer who he scrounged through his trash for day old bread. They weren't friendly like the men he sometimes saw walking around with their own kids, smiling warmly. These men scowled and gave him the same look others did when they caught sight of his tattered clothing and dirty face, like they'd seen something truly disgusting. All but one of them glared at him like this, the third man who stood in the middle being the exception.

He was tall, aged and worn in the face. It was the face of someone who'd seen action, who'd fought, who'd suffered and won. It meant he was a survivor. He could respect that. He wore strange clothes that were crisp, clean and white with gray lining as contrast. The buttons on his shirt and cuff shone brightly even in the overcast afternoon. On his chest were set several medals, none of which he knew what they were for, but all them might be good for bartering for food or a blanket if he managed to steal one. "If" being the optimum word. He knew he didn't have a chance. The two men on either side would probably grab him before he had an opportunity to take two steps and introduce him to the ground, hard.

"Are you sure about this, sir? He's small and not exactly a prime candidate," one of the men said. From his tone it was obvious the man whom he was speaking to was his leader.

"I'm very sure. I know potential when I see it," the man said in a gravely voice. "Young man, how would you like a chance to change your life for the better? How would you like to get off these cold, unforgiving streets and live a life that comes with the promise of hot food, a warm bed, and a brighter future than the one promised to you out here?"

He listened to his words and took a decisive step back. He'd heard these words spoken a few times before. Sometimes to girls, sometimes to boys. Always, they promised the same thing. Hot food, a warm bed, a better life. They were all lies wrapped up in sweet promises but always had the same outcome in the end. Only the truly desperate gave into the lies and always they came back, broken and dead inside. Whatever happened was something that had pushed them over the edge and he wanted none of it. Sure, life on the streets was tough but it was his life, his choice, and he would never give that up. Unfortunately, these men had other ideas. Before he could turn and run one of them closed the distance and snatched his arm in his grip.

"Come on, kid. There's nothing out here worth refusing our offer for," the man said.

He didn't believe him for a second. He struggled as hard as he could, harder than he'd even done before in his life. All his struggling was worthless, however, as the man's grip on his arm was like a vice. He couldn't break free of it so he'd do the only other thing he could think of.

"Oww, fuck, the little bastard bit me!" the man roared, clutching his bleeding hand.

He spat the blood from his mouth, the warm, red liquid staining his chin as it dribbled from his mouth. It was a hard, iron like taste that was vile but strangely satisfying. He couldn't remember where or when but he'd heard a story once of a warrior in a far off land who'd done something similar. Faced with perpetual suffering, his enemy offered him a swift death if he asked for it. He answered by biting him and tearing out his throat. He'd liked that story. That warrior, whoever he was, had been a survivor. He'd faced death head on and came out on top. He would do the same.

Oddly enough the man's leader didn't seem at all fazed by the boy's actions. In truth, he seemed pleased. Even as his subordinate clutched his bleeding hand, he looked delighted with what he'd just seen. It sent a cold shiver through his spine. That could not be good.

"Didn't I tell you, he has potential. Now, grab him before he has a chance to escape. I don't want to waste too much time out here or we'll be seen."

Hearing this he realized he'd completely forgotten about the other man. Before he had a chance to look around for him a sharp pain coursed through his whole body. It was as if someone had set fire to his veins, causing his body to jerk and dance as a small device sent shocks throughout. It lasted only a few moments but it was enough to immobilize him. Soon the world went black and he lost consciousness.

* * *

Something felt strange. He wasn't quite sure how to place it. He just knew that something felt foreign to him somehow, almost unnatural. His body ached, the pain from what he could only guess to have been a taser having left his body feeling numb and stiff from the initial shock. That didn't explain the sensation that held his body completely horizontal at the moment. Contradictory to the effects the taser had on his body, this felt overly soft. It was weird, to say the least, and certainly not something he was used to. He was more accustomed to the hard, cold unforgiving feeling of pavement beneath his body when he slept or rested, the occasional piece of cardboard providing some level of comfort when he could find it. In only lasted until it was stolen, blown away, or destroyed by the rain but it was never missed.

He forced his eyes open, feeling the muscles strain against him as he looked up towards a concrete ceiling, bare aside from the fluorescent lighting that illuminated the room. His eyes felt heavy and as he pushed himself up his limbs felt stiff. It took him a moment to gage where he was and even then he was still very confused.

The first thing that was obvious to him was that he was no longer on the streets. He was in a room, fairly small from what he could see, and occupied by nothing more than a chair, a dresser upon which was set a change of clothes with a pair of boots, and a bed. The latter item immediately grabbed his attention as he realized why he'd felt so uncomfortable. He hadn't slept in an actual bed in little over a year or so he thought. It had been a long time and time, for a kid, was something that never really had any precedence nor importance. As far as he was concerned, time only had meaning to him when it came to surviving to the next day.

He soon started to wonder how he'd ended up here but that question quickly answered itself as his hazy memory came back to him. The fight in the alleyway followed by a sharp pain coursing through his entire body. There was no doubt that man in the strange uniform was to blame but that wasn't really important at the moment. What was important was escaping. He looked around, seeing the door along with a couple vents along the wall. They were too high up for him to reach and no doubt too small to crawl through. His only other option was the door. It would probably be locked and if not the world outside would no doubt be filled with more men like the ones that had attacked him, but he didn't have a whole lot of options. He could either stay here and await whatever fate the man had in store for him or get off his ass and flee.

It took him barely a second to decide on what to do before he was on his feet and heading for the door. His legs fought against him, the sensation of being used causing his stiff muscles to cry out in protest but he pushed through the pain. Staying here would more than likely result in something far worse for him. The moment he reached the door and had his hand on the knob, a sound from outside caught his attention. It was the sound of metal scrapping against metal as a key was fitted into the lock. He took a few steps back, cursing his luck but nonetheless prepared to fight his way out. Regardless, he at least had confirmation that the door had indeed been locked and now, with a visitor who no doubt expected him to be unconscious, he could take advantage by attacking them when they least expected it and make an escape attempt.

The moment the door opened, however, he hesitated. The same man, middle-aged and wearing the uniform with all the bits of metal glaring in the overhead light, stood in the doorway, looking down at him. There was a momentary flash of surprise in his expression that was quickly replaced with a pleased smile, one that seemed all too foreign for him.

"You're awake and up. That's good," he said, closing the door behind him before settling into the only available chair.

The boy kept his distance, watching the door out of the corner of his eye. He'd left it unlocked but the placement of the chair put him well within range of it. No matter how fast he was, the older man would be able to cut him off or grab him before he could even have the door open. It would better if he bided his time, maybe looked for an opportunity to steal his keys and use them to get out that way.

"What's your name, son?" the man asked, grabbing his attention at the odd sincerity of it.

"Calcipher," he said after a short pause.

It wasn't his name, not really. The name he'd picked had come from a story one of the older kids had read them, about a fire demon who moved a great big house. He'd liked the name, thought it sounded tough, and chose it immediately.

"That's an odd name to give a child," the man mussed.

Calcipher didn't answer. He didn't care what the man thought of the name, only that he liked it.

"Well, Calcipher, my name is Mordan. You may call me Sir or General."

The boy sneered, obviously unimpressed by his title. _The only thing I'll refer to you as is a bad memory the moment I make it out of this place_ he thought to himself.

"Now that introductions are out of the way, let's get down to business. Do you know why I've brought you here?"

Calcipher shook his head but kept his gaze firmly on him. He had a few ideas as to why he'd been picked up off the street and to… whatever this place was. None of them were good and certainly not very enticing. If anything else it would soon be a temporary stop before he made his way back onto the streets.

"I see. Well, Calcipher, I'm sure you're old enough and aware enough to know what my title as a General means. I have a duty to the people of Atlas, one that I intend to fulfil, in ensuring their lives and livelihoods are kept safe and maintained. To do that, however, I need soldiers. Soldiers who are well trained and capable of protecting our people against not only the Grimm but the other nations as well.

Unfortunately, the last war has done little in ways of making our military look like the modicum of honor and stability it once was. We have more people looking to separate or retire than we do wanting to join up and volunteer. That makes my job much harder. As such, I've had to look for other ways to fulfil my duties, ways that are not exactly sanctioned by the Council."

 _So what does that have to do with me?_ He wanted to ask but kept his mouth shut.

"I'm sure you're wondering what all of this has to do with you," Mordan said, causing Calcipher to flinch as he expertly guessed what was on his mind. "I need soldiers. I need men and women capable of protecting our people from all manner of threats, both external and internal. However, if no one wants to volunteer then I have to go out and find those capable of doing what must be done."

"So you kidnapped me?" Calcipher asked, finally finding his voice.

"No, my boy. I didn't kidnap you. I liberated you from a life on the streets," Mordan said in a cheerful tone. "What I've done is an act of charity. Life out there would have led to you dying before you'd even reached the age of ten, malnourished and disease ridden. The worst part is that no one would have cared. You'd be just another street rat, lost to the cruel ways of society.

What I've done for you is given you an opportunity to change all that. Here you will be safe. Here you will have a warm bed, fresh cloths, hot meals, and all the medical necessities required to keep your body healthy and in working order. What I've done is save you from an unremorseful and unforgiving life. What I've done for you is a service, one that comes with a price."

Calcipher snorted as he listened to the man ramble on. Honestly, he wanted to laugh in his face but he sounded so deluded and so fanatical that a part of him feared he might start beating him the moment he let even a slight chuckle escape.

"You can stay here, live a better life and give yourself a chance at a real future or," Mordan said, the smile he wore turning down into a frown, "you can leave and return to your previous life. Keep in mind you'll only have one chance at this, no more."

Without waiting for an answer he rose from his seat and walked over to the door. As soon as he opened it and stepped outside, he took a moment to look back on the young boy. "Those clothes on the dresser are yours if you want them. Consider them a parting gift. I'll leave the door unlocked and, should I find you still here in the morning, I'll assume you've made your choice."

He closed the door behind him, leaving it open slightly to allow a sliver of light from the hallway to creep in while the sound of his boots echoing off the floor grew progressively softer and more distant until they were gone completely. Calcipher waited a few minutes longer, expecting to hear someone else approach. When he heard nothing, however, he walked over to the dresser and took down the clothes to examine them.

They were fairly basic, all things considered. A change of underwear with an under shirt along with some cargo pants, a long sleeved shirt, socks, and a pair of boots, all military issue from the look and color. Normally he wouldn't have given them a second thought but, this being Atlas, warm clothing was something of a rarity for those on the street. Anything that might be used to protect you against the harsh weather was a rare gift, one that often led to brawls as those desperate enough to steel them from you made various attempts on your life. Even if it was too small for them, warm clothing was warm clothing. Even the boots, which he normally wouldn't have considered, would be a welcome addition. Protecting your feet was a must. If you allowed them elements to have their way it would be less than a week before they were black as coal and from there life just got worse.

It took him less than ten minutes to slip everything on. He'd thrown his old rags in the corner, discarding them without a second thought, and was pleased to find that everything fit. Surprisingly the boots did as well, though they felt a little tight. Regardless, with his new clothing things would be easier for him. Now all that was left was to make his escape.

He nudged the door open, giving himself enough room to peak outside and take a look at his surroundings. There wasn't much to see. The hall was painted a generic gray color with doors colored a contrasting red all along the hall. What was even more surprising, and therefore all the more suspicious, was the total lack of guards. He'd expected to see two armed men, at the very least, but instead was met with an empty hallway. He didn't drop his guard for a second, though. There was no telling what might lay in store for him. Slowly, he crept out of the room and began his escape, all the while unable to shake the feeling that he was being watched.

* * *

General Mordan stalked into the observation room, the warm, inviting smile he'd been wearing prior having long since died. The soldiers present quickly rose to their feet, snapping to attention and giving him a salute as he entered. He gave them a curt nod, a nonverbal confirmation that they could return to their duties. He gazed over the monitors that plastered the walls before him, each one showing a different part of the compound. While some looked over into the dining area, training rooms, and even classrooms, it was the cameras placed in the dormitory halls that grabbed his attention. One of the lower ones gazed down exactly at the room he'd just come from, the room containing their newest recruit.

He smiled, a cruel and vicious expression, as he watched the young man exit the room. He took careful note of how cautious he was, checking his surroundings before moving from his room and down the hall. The boy had good instincts. Excellent. That meant he had potential and the Gods knew how desperately they needed recruits who showed promise, especially at such a young age. It made sense, though. Having grown up on the streets it was imperative that he learn some basic survival skills it he wanted to see another day. Still, the boy had a long way to go. There was still much he would need to be taught before he could be considered a potential soldier.

"Where is he headed?" he asked to no one in particular, expecting only to be answered.

"We're tracking him heading towards the east wing. I'm locking the doors to funnel him towards the dining facility."

"Excellent. Have the guards been informed of the new recruits?"

"They've all been issued updated rosters with their faces and identification numbers. No one will be slipping out of our grasp, sir."

"Very good. Keep me posted of any new developments."

* * *

Calcipher let out a frustrated growl as yet another door refused to yield to his attempts to pry it open. This was the fifth one he'd tried since leaving his room. All his efforts to escape had proven futile for a number of reasons. Most of, if not all, the doors were locked, either through us of a key or an electronic pin pad. He unfortunately didn't have anything that might be bent and used to pick the locks and he didn't have any skills that would enable him to hack the pin pads. At best he could smash them to pieces but he somehow knew that would make things worse rather than better.

What really frustrated him, however, was the complete lack of security. He'd been wondering around for what felt like an hour and not once had he come across any guards. While he could dismiss the absence of one or two, the fact that the halls had been deserted was a fact that even he found suspicious. It was obvious that something was amiss and he was willing to bet money that it had something to do with _General Mordan_.

Unfortunately, in spite of his best efforts, Calcipher had found any and possibly all exits leading out of the facility were locked tight. His only options now were to work his way inwards in the vague hopes of finding an exit that way. While he was doubtful about that being very advantageous he didn't have many options available to him and so he started heading inside.

Despite his earlier frustrations he didn't for moment let down his guard. There was no telling who or what he might find but he wanted to be ready for anything. It didn't take long for something to catch his attention, however, and it soon had a firm hold over him. It was a heavy smell. He didn't know quite how to describe it, only that it reminded him of some of the smells he'd often notice coming from various restaurants and shops around Atlas, especially during some of the colder months. It was the smell of meats, vegetables, and other such commodities. The scent alone had hit him like a bullhead, causing his stomach to growl in agitation and his mouth to start to water. It was then that he realized just how hungry he was and, throwing caution to the wind, he followed his nose to the source.

It wasn't hard to figure out where the smell originated from. The closer he came the more pronounced the scent and with it came the sound of voices. From what he could hear they were children's voices, much like his own, and there was a lot of them. He stopped at a set of double doors, the large metal frames the only barrier between himself and untold wonders of tastes and smells. For a moment he hesitated, recalling the events that had caused him to wake up in this strange and uninviting setting, but a growl of protest from his stomach quickly silenced his doubts as he pushed his way inside.

He was immediately hit by a wall of sound as the combined voices of every child present smashed into him. It was shortly followed by the heavy smells that had wafted their way through the halls to him. Here they were more concentrated and that much harder to ignore. As he gazed around for the source he took notice of a few other details as well.

The first thing that stood out to him were the matching uniforms. Every child in there, all of varying ages, gender, and species, were dressed in the same clothes as himself. It seemed odd at first but, considering it was run by the military, he figured it was some standard thing they did. The next thing he noticed were the guards. At every door, aside from the ones he'd just walked in through, they were stationed, standing at attention. He found this rather odd but, considering the large number of children present, it was easy to assume they were there to keep the peace.

"Hey, you, get in line," he heard a gruff voice say.

Calcipher turned to see who it was who'd spoken. It wasn't hard to tell as one of the guards had zeroed in one him, fixing him with an annoyed expression and snarl.

"Get in line, grab a tray, and wait to be served. Honestly, how hard is it for you kids to follow a few simple rules?"

"Huh?" he said, cocking an eyebrow.

"Eh? Oh, you're one of the new recruits, aren't you?" he said. "Just follow the line and don't do anything stupid," he said, motioning to a line of children heading into a closed off portion of the room.

Calcipher gave the man a curious look, obviously having a difficult time trusting the words of someone he didn't even know, but reluctantly stepped in line behind everyone else. It didn't take long for people to start moving and as they did he followed suit by grabbing one of the trays that was stacked nearby. He noticed them taking some metal utensils as well, something which he ignored himself. He saw no use for them. He had two perfectly good hands, after all.

Within a few minutes he had walked through the door and into nirvana. The sight of so many different kinds of food combined with their smells almost sent him into a frenzy. His stomach roared loudly, obviously pleased by the sight, but he kept himself in check. He knew the guards would no doubt tackle him to the ground before he had a chance to leap forward and instead he followed the others, mimicking their movements as he placed his tray on a set of metal bars and sliding it along.

He soon passed by some of different foods on display and, seeing the other children take some and place them on their trays, began taking just about everything in sight. Life on the street had taught him to never let a chance at food escape him and to never be a picky eater. Being picky or stingy about what food you ate almost always meant you'd go hungry. By the time he walked back out into the larger dining area, his tray was filled to overflowing with food of every variety. A few of the others stopped to stare at him but no one said anything. He didn't really care, regardless.

He found himself an empty table, well away from the others, and dug into his feast. He was, thankfully, smart enough not to gorge himself on the food. He'd seen what had happened to a few kids who'd done just that and the results had not been pretty. Another detail that kept him needlessly stuffing his face was just how rich some of the food was. It was freshly prepared, all of it, and the tastes were incredible. His stomach cried out for joy, wanting more and more, but he paced himself. The last thing he wanted was to find himself regurgitating his meal an hour later, an experience that would be none too pleasant. This thought, of course, shifted to the back of his mind as he felt several figures crowd behind him. He knew they weren't there to sit with him as there were several other seats available. Slowly and cautiously, he turned to regard his guests.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" an older kid said, gazing down at him with a vicious smile on his face.

Calcipher looked around, seeing three young boys flanking the fourth larger and burlier boy towering over him. The smug grins on their faces told him they either expected him to cower from being outnumbered or be intimidated by their leader. It was fairly obvious what was happening. No doubt they'd seen him walk in, picked him out as an easy target and decided to shake him down for his food. He soon disregarded this, however, as he noticed they all had trays in their hands, stacked with food, while one of them cared a second.

While their leader eyed him with unveiled contempt, Calcipher merely let out a tired sigh. He'd only just started eating and already someone wanted to pick a fight. He knew it was simply a show of force, one meant to assert dominance, but he wasn't in the mood for a fight. Unfortunately, he doubted they were in any mood to oblige him and so he turned to face them.

"Must be one of the stays they picked up," one the boys said.

"Sure is. Look how skinny and dirty he looks. Smells too."

"If he's new that means he hasn't learned the rules yet. We'll need to make sure he's brought up to speed," the leader said. "So listen up," he said, pocking Calcipher in the chest. His eye twitched, the act none too pleasant. However, he was smart enough to know he couldn't win through brute strength. Thankfully his new _friends_ had been kind enough to provide him with all the tools he needed.

"Rule number one, you pay homage to us at every meal. That means you give us some of your food, whatever we choose, and you can have the rest. Rule number two, you- ARGE!"

Calcipher didn't have enough patience to listen to the boy spew out the rest if his self-indulgent philosophy. Before any of his lackeys could react, he'd grabbed a fork from the closest tray and buried it into the boy's thigh. The moment he roared out in pain the entertained expressions worn by his fellow's quickly disappeared but he wasn't done yet. He grabbed a tray, tossing the food in their faces, before rearing back and slamming it across his face with a deafening slap. The boy hit the ground, moaning in pain while his friends looked on, conflicted on how they should act.

"Who's next?" he asked, dropping the tray as he glared knives at each of the remaining boys in turn.

None of them answered him. All of them took a decisive step back while their fallen leader moaned in pain on the tiled floor.

"So much for loyalty," he muttered, unimpressed by their response.

Whether they intended to retaliate or not, Calcipher would never get the answer. A loud buzzer sounded from overhead, the noise heard above the loud chatter of the mass of bodies pressed inside the cafeteria. He thought to ignore it, figuring it meant something else. Besides, he'd been interrupted before he'd had a chance to eat all of his food. Unfortunately, he wouldn't have much of a choice in the matter.

"All new recruits, make your way to the auditorium," one of the Soldiers spoke loudly. "Everyone else, make your way to you next class."

Calcipher watched as a large throng of those present stood up and began making their way through a pair of double doors. Others split off into other directions, those he assumed had other classes with the larger mass being the new recruits. He suspected he might be a part of that congregation and, while he didn't feel any need to follow the herd, the looks he was receiving from the guards made him think it would be best that he not draw anymore unneeded attention to himself.

With a sigh he stood up, taking some of the packaged foot off his tray and stuffing it into his pockets. He'd eat later, when he was alone and had more time. The bully, or victim at this point, remained on the ground. He'd managed to drag himself over to a table and prop himself up against it while he shot him a nasty look. Calcipher couldn't help but smile back. If his best was an inflated ego and a flimsy intimidation tactic with no backbone to fall back on when challenged then he should have known better than to target what he assumed was a weak, defenseless street-rat. Lazily, he joined the throng making their way out of the cafeteria and followed down a long winding hallway.

It's didn't take them long to reach their destination. Having left one large room they now entered an even bigger one, though this one was outfitted for a completely different purpose. Where the cafeteria had been set with several tables and accompanying chairs, this room was completely open and bare of any such furniture. The only chairs he saw were set behind a podium on a large raised stage at the other end of the room. Though they were unoccupied, no one made a move to claim them and he knew that was for good reason. All along the walls soldiers stood at attention, their eyes gazing out over the mass of children that had just entered. Deprived of anything to sit on the children stood where they could, small conversations popping up here and there as they wondered what their purpose was in being here.

They would get an answer soon enough as a set of doors opened at the back of the room and several figures walked in. Among them was General Mordan, dressed in the same uniform he'd been in when they'd meet. Calcipher felt a surge of anger well up in him. That bastard. Somehow he wasn't at all surprised that his offer to allow him to return to his life on the streets would be a hallow one. He wondered if the same thing had been offered to these other children as well only to have it snatched from their grasp. It didn't matter now. They were stuck here, prisoners of a man who probably had less than savory intentions for them.

As Mordan took to the stage everyone, the children included, turned their gaze towards him. While the officers with him fell into the seats set on the stage, Mordan instead walked out towards the podium. He said nothing as he gazed out on the throng that had gathered before him. His eyes roamed over each of their faces, taking them in before his eyes meet Calcipher's and stopped.

A small smile, too miniscule and quick to be registered by anyone, crept upon the General's face before disappearing. Calcipher's eyes seared with anger, pouring all of his hatred for him into his glare. He thought this was entertaining. Somehow, he found amusement at his expense. He'd show him. Just like he did the bully not five minutes ago, he'd drive a knife into this bastard's heart, he swore it.

"Good morning," Mordan said, his voice carrying over the room. No one said anything. No one replied. He didn't look like he'd expected them to, however, and continued on. "No doubt all of you are wondering why you are here," he said.

 _No shit, Sherlock_ Calcipher thought to himself. The nervous looks and shaking legs he saw on most of these kids should have been obvious enough to show how scarred they were.

"Let me begin, children, by telling you all a story," he said, moving out from the podium to stand at the foot of the stage.

"Over thirty years ago our great nation, alongside one of our allies, sought to bring order and stability to an otherwise lawless and volatile society. We achieved our goals here and in Anima but when we sought to bring our same principles to the people of Vale and Vachuo we were met with unjustifiable resistance. For years we fought, sacrificing men and resources in our noble pursuit while our adversaries continued in their pointless attempt to resist. Then, the unthinkable happened. We lost. We were defeated. In a single battle our great armies were brought to heel before the King of Vale and our nation left in tatters.

You, my children, are the unfortunate inheritors of this terrible defeat. You have been born into a world that no longer holds the respect and admiration our great country of Mantle deserves. You have not only been abandoned by your own parents and our society at large, but by the very people of Remnant themselves. Such is the fate of the defeated. The victorious care little for the defeated. History is written by the victors, a history that will forever frown upon us as the defeated aggressors rather than the noble pursuers of Justice and Order. Our government, our leaders, have consigned themselves to this fate. They have accepted the hand that was dealt to them without reproach.

They are weak."

As Calcipher stood there listening, his disappointment in the man only seemed to grow. A war? They were the victims? What did it matter to him? What did he care? Sure, life on the streets had been harsh and unforgiving but when it was the only life you'd ever known there wasn't much else to compare it to. The other children, however, seemed to disagree with his thoughts.

Whatever fear they'd felt had given way to something more. Their eyes were glued to the General pacing back and forth across the stage, waving his hands as he spouted more of his fanaticism. It was obvious they were eating up his words, his rhetoric, as if it were gospel. It wasn't difficult for him to realize that his disbelief in the man standing before them made him a black sheep amongst the flock. He'd been there barely a day and already he was at a disadvantage.

"I have watched as our leaders have slowly given up and turned their backs upon their duties," Mordan continued, his movements becoming more exaggerated as he was swept away by his own doctrine. "They have abandoned you. They have abandoned our people, but not I.

I have seen the potential that resides in each and every one of you. I have plucked you off the streets, brought you to your new home, given you food, shelter, and rest. Here you will be valued. Here you will achieve more than our leaders could have ever thought possible. Here you help our nation to arise anew, like a Phoenix from the ashes, and show our adversaries that it is we who will rewrite history. It is we who will be victorious."

Whether swept up by the excitement and energy of his speech or simply not wanting to stand out, nearly all of the children present applauded the General with some even going so far as to cheer. Calcipher remained stationary, his eyes locked on the man as he stood gazing out over them all with a smug expression on his face. He'd wipe that grin from him, he promised himself. Seemingly finished with his duties, the General took his seat before one of his subordinates took to the podium.

"Now that you have all been properly greeted by your benefactor, allow me to brief you on the rest of today's events. As I'm sure you've all had the opportunity to fill your stomachs with nutritious and generous portions provided to you by our culinary staff, the rest of today's events will proceed as follows.

You will be escorted by our staff to the tailoring center where you will each be measured and fitted for your uniforms. These will be your clothing throughout your stay here and you will be required to keep it in operational condition, meaning you will make sure it is cleaned, ironed, and free of any tears or stains. We will instruct how how you are to perform these tasks as well as how to keep it in an orderly fashion. You will also be issued your bedding and toiletries while there.

Tomorrow you will be paired with a _Battle Buddy,_ an older student who will act as your guide throughout the first year. They will help to ensure your transition into the military life is a smooth one. They'll also escort you to your classes, assist you with your homework, and make sure you are presentable at all times. Understand, they are your superiors and are to be treated as such. Any negligence on your part will result in harsh punishment. You all will one day be expected to fill their roles for newer students so be sure to pay the upmost attention to what they teach you.

Now, are there any questions?"

No one said anything for a while until one brave soul raised his hand. The man raised his eyebrow in surprise by nonetheless called on the young man to speak.

"Um, how long will we be here, um, sir?"

"That depends on you. Understand, your stay here is not indefinite. We are not some orphanage that is going to baby you until you've come of age before throwing you out into the world. Perform well and you will be rewarded and you can also expect that your assigned job after graduating from here will be a reflection of your overall initiative. Fail to live up to our standards and you can expect to be let go."

"Do you mean you'll kill us?" Calcipher interjected.

A soft, panicked murmur fell over the rest of the children. The man scowled, obviously displeased with his question, but not at all eager to contest it.

"If your actions necessitate such consequences, then yes," the General spoke, his voice carrying out over the murmur of the children.

"That will be all. Children, follow the escorts out the door. They will lead you to your fitting and ensure you receive all your required necessities."

* * *

The process of gathering all of their necessities took a large portion of the day. As was to be expected of a military facility, the moment the entered the tailoring center they were lined up against the wall, spoken to harshly and instructed to do exactly as they were told. The clothes they had been provided were removed and stowed away for use by future newcomers. The tailors took several measurements, everything from the circumference of their head right down to their feet. By the end they were issued a military uniform which they were to wear at all times and made to stand back in line to a wait the rest of their fellow recruits.

Calcipher hated his uniform. Apart from the fact that it was just another part of the unfair deal he'd been forced into by the General, it was tight, itchy, and smelled weird. His boots were uncomfortable, to say the least. They were meant to fit snuggly around his fit but they just felt uncomfortable. The tip of the iceberg came from the underwear he'd been given. Try as he might, he'd couldn't keep the damn material from riding up. A quick glance at the others showed they felt the same but none of them were at all tempted to make a complaint.

As soon as they were finished they were given several extra pairs along with a military bag that they stuffed everything into before moving onto their next destination. On and on it went as they were saddled with more materials, toiletries, and what not. By the end they were given a sheet of paper that scheduled the remainder of their week. While most of them couldn't read they were told it included trips to the medical facility where they would be poked, prodded, and otherwise checked to gage their overall physical and mental health. After that they were given a simple map of the facility, told to return to their rooms and wait to be called back to the cafeteria for dinner.

Calcipher didn't waste a moment returning to his room. A few moments to relax and perhaps consider a new plan for escaping the facility was something he greatly relished and welcomed. The moment he entered his room, however, his mood quickly soured as he found it was already occupied. General Mordan, looking as pleased as ever, sat in the same seat he'd occupied that morning. Calcipher made no attempts to greet him, instead maneuvering around the man as he dropped his bag next to his bed before leaning his back against the wall.

"So, how was your first day?" Mordan asked in a chipper, mocking tone.

"You're a piece of shit," Calcipher responded.

The General laughed, obviously amused at the comment, while Calcipher scowled in disgust.

"Typically you'd be severally punished for speaking in such a manner to a superior officer but, considering it's your first day, I'll let it slide. In the future you'll have to learn to choose your words more carefully."

"You lied to me," he said, completely ignoring the man's response.

"Lied to you?"

"You said if I wanted to leave I could. If I wanted to return to my old life I could. Instead, you made sure I couldn't leave this place at all. I never had a choice."

"On the contrary, young man, I never lied to you. While you did have the choice in leaving this place I also had the choice in preventing you from departing. I never said I wouldn't try to stop you nor that I would allow you to just walk away. I put a great deal of effort into relocating you and your fellows to this place. I expect a return on my investment."

"Investment?"

"Of course. I highlighted it during my speech this morning but, assuming you weren't listening, I'll reiterate it for you. Atlas has lost a great deal due to our defeat at the conclusion of the war. Our military is a joke, our economy is in shambles. We are a shadow of the once proud people who forged ahead into this frozen wilderness and conquered it when others merely expected us to die.

Our people are on the verge of collapse. We need someone to take charge, to forge us ahead once more and become a beacon of hope."

"And you're that man?" Calcipher asked skeptically.

"I'm the only one capable to doing what others cannot, of making decisions that others would otherwise ignore or not even consider. I'm doing what must be done to help our people survive and heal and to do that I need a powerful military at my side to ensure the job gets done."

"Really? What makes you think I'll just bow down do as you say? What's to prevent me from leaving when the opportunity presents itself?"

"Nothing and everything," the General said, rising from his seat. "Consider this, boy. Out on the streets you were no one, you were nothing. In here, however, you have an opportunity to become something more, something greater. We weren't lying when we said your initiative and willingness to succeed will be rewarded. Serve me well and I can promise you a future where you're someone who is both respected and feared, where you are no longer just another kid on the street struggling to survive.

Consider my offer, young man, because you'll be here a while."

The moment the General left, Calcipher felt the slow burning anger he'd felt for his situation all morning start to shift. As he mulled over the man's words, a sadistic smile started to spread across his face.

"Alright, old man. Challenge accepted."

* * *

**Apologies to all of my followers for the long, long, looooooong over due update to this story. Why did it take so long, you might ask? Well, it comes down to two reasons.**

**First, the months (mostly November and December) leading up and into the holiday season were murder on me at work. A lot of stress and stupid problems that continued to pop up and hound me make things very stressful. At the end of the day I had little energy left to put into writing and instead focused on defusing. While I really wanted to work on this I just didn't have the mental capacity for it.**

**The second reason was simply due to being lazy. I took two weeks off from work in order to visit family over Christmas and, while I had plenty of time to work on this in that time frame, I obviously didn't. I just got into a lazy routine until I finally managed to pull myself out of it.**

**I also apologize for how short this chapter is compared to others. Honestly, with the fact that I decided to take this on a more original direction for the majority of the story, the updates to this maybe few and far between. That said, I'm going to do my best to give you all the best product I have to offer.**

**Lastly, I plan on making some updates to "Broken Minds and Mended Hearts." That one has been collecting dust for a while (and hasn't progressed beyond one chapter) but I've recently had some inspiration that may help to improve the overall story moving forward and ensure that updates will soon follow. Also, I'm working on another original RWBY fanfic, this one set in the future revolving around their children. Ironically, and appropriately enough, it'll be called "Children of RWBY." Look forward to seeing that in the future because I have some interesting things planned for it.**


	3. Chapter 2: Lessons in Respect

**Vale – 30 Years post Great War**

The sword strike came in high from overhead. She saw the attack, shifting her stance and her halberd to deflect it to the side while spinning the pole and bringing the axe around for a counterattack all in the same movement. The sword was swatted to the ground, as expected, but her opponent brought up his shield in time to block her attack. No, he'd expected that and had instead thrust his shield out to meet her attack, pushing the halberd back and leaving her open for a shoulder charge. She took the hit full force, being thrown back and onto the ground with a loud thud. Before she could climb back to her feet, however, her opponent had closed the distance and held his sword at her throat.

"I yield," she said, scowling as her father sheathed his sword in the shield and collapsed it back into a scabbard at his hip.

"Well done, Sapphira," her father said, offering her his hand. She took it and immediately felt his strong arm pull her from the ground, making her feel weightless in the processes.

"It's not good enough," she complained.

"It's better than most children your age," her father argued, settling down on an old stump that acted as a chair. "Not to mention you choose an exceptionally difficult weapon to master. The halberd requires a fine balance of skill, fortitude, foresight, and adaptability. It's three weapons in one and while that gives it the strengths of all three that also means it comes with their weaknesses as well. It's easy to become accustomed to one of them and neglect the others, leaving your stance riddled with holes."

"Nicholas is going to inherit your weapon someday. I needed something distinct to set myself apart," she said.

"You don't have to learn to fight. That's what sons are for," her twin said jokingly.

Sapphira sneered before bringing the pole of her halberd around and behind his legs. The swift movement caught the boy off guard and he soon found himself staring up at the sky as well as his sister's vicious smirk.

"Did you say something _little brother_?" she mocked.

"You're only older by two minutes," he argued, rubbing his head where he'd smacked the ground.

"That's enough you two," their mother scolded, her long auburn hair tied back in a braid that bobbed back and forth as she strode towards them from their home. "Honestly, whether in my womb or out here sparring, you two are always bickering about something."

"She started it," Nicholas accused.

"No, you did with your stupid comment," Sapphira shot back.

"Only because I'm right," he scoffed.

Rather than answer him, Sapphira instead scowled and brought her halberd around for another swipe at his feet. Nicholas saw it immediately and instantly jumped, smirking as he waited for the pole to sail harmlessly under his feet. It never did, however, as he soon realized all too late that was a distraction. Before his feet hit the ground she shifted the pole's stance, ensuring it landed on his sword instead. Nicholas had barely enough time to regret his actions as a sharp pain emanated from his groan. He crumbled to the ground, clutching at his bruised pride.

"What was that, _little brother_? I didn't quite catch that last comment."

"Albert, do something," their mother groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose as she grumbled about her children's behavior.

"Children your mother's right. Sapphira, you need to learn to let such comments slide or ignore them entirely. You can't allow your pride and temper to get the best of you, otherwise they'll prove to be your downfall. Nicholas, you need to learn to hold such comments back and especially to respect woman, most notably those in your family."

"Yes father," the twins replied in unison, shooting each other a glare.

"I want you two to give me your word," he said. "An Arc never goes back their word."

"We promise," they said.

/-/

**Atlas – Military Compound – Calcipher**

"Hold him down!" the doctor yelled.

Four nurses situated around the examination table that Calcipher was strapped to struggled to keep the young boy from wriggling too much. The leather restraints, while meant to ensure he didn't hurt himself, dug into his skin. He flailed violently against their grip and it was only through their combined efforts to hold him firmly still that the doctor was able to extract the necessary blood samples as well as administer his vaccinations.

Calcipher disliked doctors and he disliked getting shots even more. Today was no exception and it wasn't going to end anytime soon.

As promised his second day at the Academy had been far worse than he'd expected. He'd liked to have referred to it as a prison but his escort, a young avian faunus cadet named Fang, had informed him that General Mordan considered their institution a military academy. Calcipher disagreed and, to his delight, so did Fang. Much like himself Fang had been taken from off the streets a year earlier. He'd not come quietly, managing to knock one of the Generals men unconscious for their efforts, and he'd audibly laughed when Calcipher mentioned having bitten the man who attempted to manhandle him.

"I've heard it said some people's bark is worse than their bit but that's obviously reversed for you, isn't it?"

It was a shared moment that ensured the two would become allies while in this prison, something Calcipher had realized he'd need if he was to survive. Fang had escorted him to their appointments, watching with unveiled pleasure as the doctors struggled to strap him down for his shots and only putting in minimal effort to help restrain him when ordered to do so. He'd done the same when he was taken to the onsite dentist, making mention of Calcipher's preference to bit anyone who he considered his enemy. Calcipher had caught on immediately, giving the man a sharp glare while also barring his teeth threateningly. The man had paled in response and, instead of attempting to force him to comply, had smartly had him drugged to ensure he was as compliant as was needed.

Once the appointments were out of the way, and he was only just coming down from the numbness brought on by the drugs, Fang led him towards the cafeteria. Once more Calcipher found his senses assailed by the magnificent smells that came from the kitchen, a detail which did not go unmissed by Fang. After collecting enough food his friend led him to a table where they could sit alone and chat.

"So, I've got to ask, were you the one who sank a knife into that bastard's leg?" Fang asked.

"Fork," Calcipher corrected him between bits of his burger, "and yes that was me."

"Well done," Fang said, his praise causing Calcipher to preen a little, though his expression never showed it.

"It's not a big deal."

"To you, maybe, but that kid and his lackey's were always a nuisance. Thinks he's tough shit because he's the son of some beauracrate," Fang mumbled.

"Beauracrate? I thought everyone here was from off the street," Calcipher commented.

"The majority of us are, yes. Those the General didn't take off the street he gleaned from the orphanages. With the way the war turned out, they're overflowing with kids just like us who they can't adequately house or provide for. Others, however, come from good families. Some who are high up on the food chain and actively throw their weight around."

"Why send them here, though? This doesn't exactly look like the kind of place they'd want their kids spending their time in."

"You'd think that but the General has worked hard to give his Academy a top notch image. It's made to look like something capable of rivaling the Atlas Huntsmen Academy. Even the academics are some of the best. Not only that but students of those families who attend here often go on to achieve powerful positions in the military. That's only if they're the second or third child, though. Only the eldest inherit. The rest have to figure something else out."

That made sense. Among the stories read to him at the orphanage, it was usually the younger children of the parents involved who went on grand adventures to seek their fortune. No doubt it was the same with these kids. Knowing they wouldn't see a single lien of their family's inheritance, they'd instead chosen a carrier path that insured they'd be well off while also gaining some political power of their own along the way. It was disgusting to think that the future leaders of their nation were attending this place alongside them, albeit with greater benefits that came from donations made by their families to General Mordan himself. Seems the old man's speech yesterday had been full of shit. Not that realization surprised him in the least.

"Who was he anyway? The kid I stabbed in the leg," he asked.

"I don't know. I'll have to ask around," Fang remarked.

"Guess it's better to be an only child, at least where his family is concerned."

"You'd think but no. He had older siblings. Killed in the war. Now he's the only one left."

"And they still sent him here?" Fang nodded in confirmation. "Wonder if that's his punishment or ours."

"Well, considering what you did to him yesterday, I'd say it's his," Fang replied with a smirk.

/-/

The rest of his day came and went without much incident. With most of the usual processing procedures now out of the way, Fang led Calcipher to the various rooms that would house the classes he'd be taking. Many of the subjects revolved around the usual things such as Math, Science, Geography, but a few adhered more to the military aspect of the Academy such as Tactics, Combat training, and Diplomacy. It was obvious Mordan had spared no expense in ensuring his soldiers would be top notch, not only physically prepared but mentally as well.

"We have field exercises every now and then as well," Fang casually mentioned.

"Field exercises?"

"Yea, basically field trips where they teach us outdoor survival skills and the like. You spent most of your time digging holes, shivering around small campfires, and basically wishing to be back here where you have hot food, warm beds, and indoor plumbing."

"So, basically what life was like before but with better equipment," Calcipher concluded.

"Exactly," Fang confirmed with a chuckle.

Calcipher rolled his eyes, wondering how much easier his "field training" would be compared to the life he'd lead thus far. He could imagine some of the children who weren't as well versed in the challenges of living and sleeping in a fairly cold environment. Some of them like the brat he'd stabbed in the lunchroom had probably grown up in a comfortable lifestyle, never wanting for anything and thus never having to wonder what life would be like if it all went up in smoke. No doubt their first trip into the snow had been a wakeup call, the likes of which that had them praying for it to be over so they could crawl into their beds and never leave the safety of the sheets. The thought of it made him smile just a little.

Even when he'd lived in the orphanage, life hadn't been easy. Overcrowded and underfunded, the concept of heat only applied when they managed to get a fire going in the hearth or wrap themselves up in a blanket. Sadly, they were only provided the bare necessities, with many of those other luxuries such as heating and hot showers being as mythical as the treasure troves sought out by the heroes in the stories that were read to them. Life out on the street hadn't been better but at least he didn't have over three dozen extra bodies crowded around him, arguing and fighting over beds and blankets. Out on the street those who survived had the power to take what they needed and those who didn't simply disappeared. It was a harsh reality but, strangely, one he appreciated. It was honesty to a fault and one that didn't pull punches. Once you learned and accepted that He'd done the reality things became somewhat easier.

"Any chance that we'll be having one soon?" he asked.

"I wouldn't doubt it. Our last field exercise was a month or two ago so we should be having another one soon. Though, from what I've heard, this next one will be a bit different."

"How so?"

"I've heard this next one is going to be headed by one of the Council members, someone who's familiar with this kind of challenge."

"Really? Who is it?"

"Nicholas Schnee," Fang replied and, upon seeing Calcipher's surprised look, added, "though that's only a rumor. I doubt it's someone as important as him."

True, someone like Nicholas Schnee attending a field exercise with a bunch of military brats wasn't exactly something you pictured happening. However, even at such a young age, the man's name alone was not unheard of. His exploits in gaining Atlas some much needed revenue in the form of Dust had been something which had jumpstarted their economy. While the effects of this hadn't happened over night, with each new Dust mine discovered the Schnee industry grew and their economy along with it. What's more, the man's generosity and tendency to treat everyone like a friend had earned him great love and respect from them, even if you hadn't had the chance to personally meet him. Though it seemed a long shot, Calcipher silently prayed that he might actually have the chance to see this fabled adventurer, if only to make his stay here that much more bearable.

/-/

**Atlas – Schnee Manor, a few weeks' prior – Nicholas**

"No one ever tells you just how much paperwork is involved with these expeditions," Nicholas mumbled to himself, signing another erroneous paper before moving onto another stack.

To say things had gone well for Nicholas and his family would have been an understatement. Born the son of a veteran of the Great War, Nicholas had essentially been left with very little in the way of funds to work with after his father's passing. Had it not been for his extensive knowledge and training, the expedition he'd later funded might have ended very differently. Then again, regardless of his knowledge and skills, the fact that their expedition had ended in success was nothing less than a miracle. It was just as likely to have ended in failure with the majority of them either dying from starvation, Grimm attacks, or simply exposure to the harsher elements of Mantle. Thankfully, everything had worked out and, as a result, Atlas, along with his family, had prospered.

As a result he'd managed to start a business, the Schnee Dust Company, which provided him with the necessary tools and funds to not only perform subsequent expeditions but also to refine, process, and send shipments of Dust to the other kingdoms. The increase in exports as well as jobs which his company had created had created an immense boost in their economy and it was already beginning to show. Unfortunately, not all change is instantaneous. Some people, such as General Mordan, still believed in the necessity of a strong military presence. While he didn't disagree with the man's philosophy, his methods were something else entirely. As such, he was having a meeting with the man in question to discuss some of his more "unsavory" actions he'd been rumored to have been performing under the Council's collective noses.

A soft knock resounded from his office door before a young man walked inside. He was in his mid-teens with short brown hair combed to one side. He wore a light blue vest over a white buttoned dress shirt and matching gloves with navy blue trousers. He balanced a large tray in one hand upon which was a steaming pot of coffee which he set down before Nicholas.

"Thank you, Klein," he said, taking a sip of the beverage and pleased to find it was freshly brewed, "though I don't recall requesting a drink."

"You didn't sir, however, considering how long you've been in here, I thought you might enjoy something to boost your spirits as well your body," he replied with a smile.

"You know me too well," he said with a chuckle. "By the way, when is Mordan due to arrive?"

"He already has, sir. He's currently waiting in the foyer. Shall I escort him here?"

"Please," Nicholas said, taking another pleasing sip of his coffee and feeling the effects of his beverage perking up his spirits.

It was a few minutes before Klein returned with the General in tow. Donning his dress uniform, the General looked every bit the part, though, in Nicholas' opinion, he looked a bit pretentious. He greeted Nicholas, taking a seat across from him, before accepting a glass from Klein containing a dark amber liquor. He took a small sip, basking in the effects in had on him, while Klein bowed respectfully before leaving to return to his duties.

"Mordan," Nicholas greeted him curtly.

"It's good to see you again Nicholas," General Mordan said.

"And I you. Tell me, how have things been going with your recruitment?"

"Slow and steady. Not as many applicants as we would have liked, especially from some of the more notable families."

"Really? I would have thought there would be more. As I recall, the council did authorize you to start recruiting suitable candidates from the local orphanages as well. Are those proving at all satisfactory?"

"I'll admit, the orphanages are not lacking at all in way of meat for the grinder," Mordan said jokingly, his comment earning a wince of displeasure from Nicholas, "but that doesn't mean they are all suitable for the military lifestyle. To put it in laymen's terms, we're finding a great deal of scrap metal and not a whole lot of gold."

"Is that why I've been hearing reports of you and your men taking children off the streets in order to fill your quota?" Nicholas asked.

His questioned caused the man's disciplined and stoic face to falter, not enough to be noticed by others but enough for someone life Nicholas to catch as a tell. The man leaned back in his chair, fixing the General with a disapproving gaze. He had hoped the rumors had been just that; rumors. Unfortunately, that was quickly proving to not be the case.

"Mordan, we discussed this," he began.

"There's nothing wrong with my methods, Nicholas," Mordan attempted to argue.

"In your eyes, perhaps, but the morality of your actions are questionable at best and illegal at worst."

"They are runaways and undesirables. Most of them came from the orphanages and were either pushed out due to overflow or an inability to take care of them all. What we're doing is giving them a life, a purpose."

"It's kidnapping," Nicholas snapped.

"And what would you have me do, hmm? Throw them back onto the streets to die within a year or two? Or shall I drop them off at the nearest orphanage and wish them the best of luck?" Mordan snapped back, silently pleased to see his argument had silenced his counterpart. "These children have nothing. They came from nothing. Unlike you they were not afforded the same opportunity to study, train, and eventually make something of themselves. Those who managed to make their way through the orphanage and into adulthood will simply be spat back out into the system and expected to make something of themselves. Most will either starve to death or be taken by disease before that happens. What I'm doing may be _immoral_ in your eyes but it at least gives them a chance at a better life."

Nicholas was silent, his neutral expression hiding the turbulent emotions which warred within him. He didn't agree with Mordan, not one bit, but, unfortunately, the man had a point. He himself had come from a poor family, one in which both he and his father had worked in the mines to help support the others. When his father passed, he took what money he'd been given and, by some miracle, created a company that had rejuvenated the dwindling life of his nation and people. Unfortunately, the same couldn't be expected from everyone who shared his background. War was a terrible thing and it was unbiased as to whom it affected. Even if all of these children who had been taken into Mordan's care had managed to make it to adulthood within the walls of the numerous orphanages, there weren't enough jobs or food to support them all. Many would die, it was simply the nature of the beast.

Still, he didn't feel right knowing Mordan purposely took these children off the streets in order to fill positions at his academy. There were better ways. In time, perhaps, he would see to it that those other avenues were explored and implemented but for now he would have to bite his tongue and admit defeat. The battle had been lost, perhaps, but the war was far from over. Besides, failure was the greatest teacher out there and, if he couldn't convince Mordan that his methods were wrong, perhaps he could go about things a different way.

"Very well," he said, releasing a slow breath to calm his nerves and smolder his temper. "I will admit; I do not have another solution available to me."

"As I thought," Mordan said with a victorious smirk, sipping at his drink tentatively. "It is noble of you to admit defeat, old friend."

Nicholas scowled at the comment but bit back the comment that threatened to leap out. "I will, however, like to see for myself how the curriculum at your academy is progressing."

"Of course, of course. We are always happy to host guests of note at our school. We can discuss some future dates when such a visit might be appropriate- "

"Actually," Nicholas interrupted, "I was thinking of something different. I've been told you host field missions every few weeks or so for the recruits."

"You heard correctly," Mordan replied with a hint of suspicion. "We use those as an opportunity to instruct them on subjects such as wilderness survival, first aid, Grimm attacks, and the like. I take it you have an interest in these due to your expeditions?"

"Indeed I do. In fact, I'd like to offer my services to you during your next session. Having led quite a few expeditions myself, I can pass along some personal experience to the cadets and hopefully reinforce what they are being taught with my own knowledge."

"I see," Mordan said, taking a moment to consider the offer.

From a completely tactical standpoint, the offer was a very generous one. Nicholas was known quite well for his leadership abilities, not only in the boardroom but out in the field as well. With several successful expeditions under his belt, all of which he'd insisted on leading himself, having him take some time to teach his students would be of great benefit to them and might even be used to spin some useful PR. However, the sudden offer was quite suspicious, something he knew Nicholas wasn't blind to. He knew he had other motivations for wanting to spend some time with his students, time he might spend looking for reasons and evidence to have him shut down or placed under scrutiny by the council.

Both men eyed each other across the desk, neither one daring to blink out of a sense of intimidation. The cogs in their minds spun furiously as they each worked to predict the other's next move and motivation. Ultimately, Mordan rose from his seat, extending his hand out to Nicholas in a sign of trust and compliance.

"Very well," he said, "I'll forward you the details of our next exercise and plan accordingly. I'll make sure my students are informed that this will be the event of a lifetime and one that is not to be mistreated."

"Thank you, Mordan, I look forward to attending with you," Nicholas said, taking the man's hand.

They shook only slightly but their respective grips were ironclad. If one had taken the time to observe them they would have noticed how taunt their skin was as each tried to crush the other man's hand in their own. Eventually they parted, Mordan downing the last of his drink, before excusing himself and seeing his way out of the mansion. In his wake, a cold silence pervaded the air. A new battle was on the horizon though only they were aware of it. The silence didn't last very long, however, as Klein soon returned, sensing the necessity of his presence at his employer's side.

"Klein, make sure any appointments I have during the General's field exercise are cancelled."

"Of course, sir. Should I also check to make sure your gear is in working order and replaced as necessary?"

"Indeed. Thank you Klein. By the way, have the packages which I requested arrived yet?"

"The packages containing Lady Schnee's gear arrived yesterday, Sir. I take it you'll be taking her along with you?"

"Only for a few days, more should she find she has a liking for the outdoors," Nicholas said, leaning back as he took a sip of his now lukewarm coffee. "She has been insisting that I take her on one of my expeditions. This will be a good introduction for Kat, at least in terms of knowing what to expect."

"I completely agree, sir," Klein said with a curt smile as he turned to leave the room.

"Do you agree because you feel the same way or because you won't be berated by her complaints the moment she realizes it's nothing like she imagined it to be?" Nicholas called out.

"Yes," Klein said with a smile before ducking behind a corner.

/-/

**Military Compound – Current Day – Calcipher**

"Listen up, maggots!" one of the numerous soldiers working at the military compound bellowed as he walked back and forth on the stage.

Calcipher had never taken the time to memorize the names or faces of his instructors nor the others who worked there. At best he was able to correlate them with the various subjects he was being taught, each with some degree of veiled disgust and annoyance. Even now he watched the man before them, a vague feeling of recognition niggling at him from somewhere in the back of his mind, but otherwise going ignored. They'd been woken up early in the day and dragged from their warm beds to stand in the auditorium while this man shouted some semblance of instructions at him. At best Calcipher managed to catch a few key works such as "field training" and "soon," things that told him to expect it within the week at best.

"During this exercise we will be testing your overall survival skills as well as taking into account the areas where you are struggling. Considering that, for most of you, this will be your first field exercise, any mistakes you make will have a lax reproach."

The tension that had hung in the air visibly lessoned, but Calcipher wasn't fooled as he quietly mumbled under his breath "but…"

"However," the man continued, regaining the rooms collective attention, "not all of your mistakes will be over looked. Continued mistakes made while performing the same task or ones that could potentially endanger your life as well as the lives of others will not be tolerated. They will be severe punishment.

On a side note, we'll be entertaining a special guest during the exercise. Councilman Nicholas Schnee has graciously agreed to accompany us and impart some of his own first hand knowledge to the next generation, namely all of you." Excited chatter rose up from the mass of children. Even Calcipher perked up at this revelation, Nicholas Schnee's name being one even he was familiar with, albeit in the aspect of common knowledge. A quick clearing of his throat and a stern look from their instructor, however, had the room silent once more before he continued. "Keep in mind you will be expected to be on your best behavior. All of your actions are a reflection upon our institution and therefore negligence and outright disobedience will not be tolerated.

Now, your schedules have been rearranged to accommodate topics relating to the field exercise itself. These will include wilderness survival skills that will teach you how to set up camp, create a makeshift shelter for yourselves, and even basic hunting and foraging skills. Do not slack off during these lessons. Everything you'll be taught will be vital to this exercise as well as your future. Consider the field exercise as a final exam which will test your knowledge and abilities to perform. Dismissed."

As expected the congregation of young children began moving towards the exits, chatting amongst themselves about what they'd just been informed of. The atmosphere was a mixture of of excitement and nervousness as some regarded this new information as an opportunity to stand out and possibly rise through the ranks through the merits of their skills while others regarded this as a punishment, the ire they felt at having to leave behind their warm beds and hot meals evident in their voices. Calcipher, as expected, was neither excited nor nervous. He'd spent more than enough time on the streets to learn what he needed to survive and this added training exercise would simply add to that roster.

No, what had him intrigued was the fact that Nicholas Schnee himself would be accompanying them on their exercise. His feats alone were legendary and the fact that he had started out life in such humble circumstances like himself only made the image he had of the man that much more grand. The very thought that he would be spending little over a week in his presence had enough affect on him to cause a smile to grace his lips, a detail that did no go unnoticed by his companion Fang.

"Someone looks happy," he commented as they fell into line with one another. "You get some good news?"

"Maybe. We're apparently going to be having a field exercise soon," Calcipher remarked.

"Really? That's what has you smirking like that? Most kids would be mortified."

 _I'm not like most kids_ Calcipher thought to say but suppressed it. "It's not the exercise itself but who's coming with us that has me smiling."

"Who's coming then?" Fang asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Nicholas Schnee," he remarked.

Fang stopped dead in his tracks, his surprise plastered all over his face. "So it's true? _The_ Nicholas Schnee is going to be joining us?"

"Apparently so. Not sure if he'll follow through, though. He is a Politian and therefore prone to saying things he doesn't really mean."

"Bullshit!" Fang barked. "The man's as good as his word. No way he'd say he'll join us only to bail at the last second."

Calcipher couldn't help but silently agree, his smile evidence enough of his excitement. Granted he wasn't at all pleased with how things had turned out but it seemed there would be a silver lining to all of this. He would get to meet a man he admired, or at least work alongside him, and possibly even learn from him. Knowing all that his thoughts then turned back to escape. His first attempts to leave had been thwarted but now, with the addition of the field exercise, his chances of success were sure to increase. It would only be a matter of time before Mordan let down his guard and gave him the opening he needed. The old man obviously expected him to break first but that was never going to happen. The only way he'd break was if he was dead and even then his will to survive would push him forward. In the end it would be he who stood victorious over Mordan, that he could guarantee.

/-/

"F-f-father, I t-thought you said w-w-we'd be going on an e-e-expedition?" Katerina Schnee complained, her voice barely discernable due in part to the loud chattering her teeth were making as well as the fact she was shaking horribly despite the many layers she was wearing.

"We will, my dear, but you can't just embark on an expedition and expect everything to go smoothly. Any number of things could go wrong and it's imperative that you be amply prepared to adapt to the situation. This field exercise General Mordan is hosting is as much a training opportunity for his cadets as it is for you. Think of this as the shallows of the pool. You'll get your start here and work your way towards joining me on my next expedition."

"F-f-fine," she managed, the sharp glare she gave her father conveying her feelings that she still felt a little cheated despite the fact that her father hadn't exactly gone back on his word so much as he had pushed it to a later date.

Nicholas smiled warmly at his daughter despite her sour mood. While he did feel slightly guilty at skewing his words when it came to keeping his promise, he had good reason to. At the time he'd gone on his first expedition he'd completed years of grueling field and combat training. He'd been more than prepared for the dangers he was leading his team into and, dare he say it, he'd also been prepared to sacrifice everything on the slim chance they'd strike Dust and come home heroes or fail and die. There'd been no guarantee at success when they'd struck out, all of them had known that. At best they'd give their lives in one last hurrah that was focused on securing a better future for the lives of their families as well as their fellow countrymen. At worst they'd return, empty handed and shamed, having wasted all that time, effort, and funding on a fool's bargain.

Obviously they'd been successful and that success had lead to further expeditions, all of which he'd led personally, each one yielding unprecedented results. With each new expedition they accomplished gained a wealth unlike any he could have dreamt of as a child and the stories he told his daughter about the dangers they'd faced and overcame had only helped to fuel the fire in her own soul as she begged for him year after year to take her with him on the next expedition. While he'd gently refused her at first, her consistent requests proved he'd done little to put out the fire and, he realized, if he didn't do something to redirect it she'd either sneak off with them on their next outing, putting herself as well as his crew in grave danger, or he'd have to take a much firmer stance against it.

With neither option holding any great appeal to him, Nicholas instead opted to give her a trial run. Mordan's field exercise was the perfect opportunity for him to test her resolve. If she showed potential and tenacity out here then he would consider training her further, ensuring she'd be more than capable to carry her own weight during an expedition. However, if it proved too much or she became bored with everything that was being taught, he'd have sufficient evidence to show she wasn't ready to join him and might never be. Either way, this was a make or break situation, one which couldn't have come at a more opportune time.

/-/

Calcipher, along with about two dozen or so other cadets, stood at attention as they faced their instructors. Despite their disciplinary training, they were having a rather difficult time maintaining their rigid posture while their bodies shivered in the cold. Well, most were anyway. Calcipher, along with a few other street born cadets, managed to suffer the cold without much complaint. They'd spent most of their life attempting to survive in the harsh environments created by Atlas's geographical location and with that came a natural necessity to acclimate themselves to the plummeting temperatures of the winter months. Even with how cold it was out in the wilds, with the added protection and warmth of their combat gear, what might have been a dismal situation had quickly shifted into something a little more tolerable.

"Before we begin we will hear a few words from our honored guest, Councilor Nicholas Schnee."

The applause, though generous, was greatly muffled by everyone's need to wear gloves. The man showed little, if any, disappointment in that fact as he stood to speak, gazing out on them with a genuine and a warm gaze. Calcipher couldn't help but find himself standing a little bit taller, a small part of his mind wishing the man would make eye contact with him for even a moment. He felt there was so much that could have been communicated, so much he might learn from this man or find they shared in common. It was a rare moment where it didn't feel the need to rebel or construct some sort of elaborate escape plan. He truly wished to be here in the presence of this man.

"Good morning," the man greeted them, receiving a disjointed reply from his audience. "As your instructor has already stated I will be here serving as a guest during your exercise. While I may be a council member and honored guest, don't let those traits intimidate you. This exercise is meant to instill within each of you a firm foundation from which many useful skills that may one day come into play and enable you to survive in some of the most hostile conditions should you ever find yourself in a similar situation. As such, my presence here is meant to give you another outlet of support and experience to draw from. Do not hesitate to call upon me for critiquing or to ask my advice on areas where you maybe struggling. Doing so will have no negative impacts upon your overall scores and, if I'm being honest, I would feel greatly insulted if you didn't take advantage of my presence here to help yourselves overcome some challenges you may be facing. That said, I wish you all the best of luck and look forward to working alongside you in the future."

With his introduction out of the way, Nicholas stepped aside with a curt nod to the instructor as he handed the microphone back over to him. "Alright cadets, now listen up. Each of you have been given a survival pack that has been carefully crafted to each of your strengths and weaknesses as observed during your preliminary classes. Most of it will be focusing on areas you require improvement in and will test your ability to adapt. It will also provide you with an accurate scenario in which you may find yourself without the tools necessary to survive and are forced to scavenge or manufacture your own out in the wilderness. Your progress will be carefully monitored throughout and those who fail to meet standards will be required to take extra makeup courses."

An audible groan rose from the cadets but it was quickly silenced by a sharp glare from the man up on the stage. "Keep in mind, you will not be required to work alone. Seldom, if ever, will you find yourself in a situation by yourself. Teamwork is encouraged and those who learn to recognize and seek out those who possess the necessary skills that you lack will find themselves not only excelling during this exercise by passing it as well. That said, collect you packs, prepare your campsite, and try not to disappoint."

With those final words dismissing them, the cadets moved over to the pile of equipment which had been placed into convenient piles, each baring one of their names. Calcipher found his easily enough and wasn't at all surprised to see how small it was in comparison to the others. He opened it up, taking inventory of what he'd been given as well as what he had to work with as a result. A weeks' worth of food rations, a combat knife, a flint, a trowel, some rope, a blanket, and a first aid kit. He snorted, none too surprised that he of all people would have been give the greatest challenge. Looking around he took note of various other cadets, most having branched off into groups of two or three, already setting up small camps. What was consistent was that either one or more of them had been issued a tent, bed roll, and hatchet, allowing for some comfortable living conditions. What's more, most of the instructors looked at him from the corner of their eye, ensuring he was in their line of sight despite being turned towards the others.

"Challenge accepted old man," he muttered and looked to find a decent spot to start digging a foxhole.

He moved himself further from the main group, finding a spot uphill and away from the forest. His position would afford him some advantages such as being elevated should it rain, ensuring everyone downhill would be flooded while he maintained some comfort. It would also give him a bit of warning should the Grimm attack as his distance from the forest would allow him ample time to retreat back to the main group once they'd formed up. Taking out his trowel he unfolded the small shovel and bit down into the ground. The earth was hard and unyielding, which was to be expected given the weather and low temperature. He grunted, jumping on the shovel to put his full body weight behind it and forcing it deeper into the dirt. There was a satisfying crunch as the ground gave way and he shoveled earth out and away before repeating the process. It took him nearly an hour to make himself a foxhole just deep and wide enough for him to sit comfortably inside with his blanket draped over him for warmth.

Satisfied, and with a few hours left of daylight, he marched on towards the forest and into the tree line. He kept close to the camp, enough to keep them in sight but strayed just far enough inside to make out the various tracks of small animals. He followed them a ways until he found a spot with the most traffic and started work on making a small trap. Using the rope he'd been provided, he would at least be able to nab himself a rat, squirrel, or even a rabbit if he was lucky. Anything larger, like a fox, would be more trouble than it was worth as he'd likely walk away more bloodied by the animal's attempts to escape and need to survive than it would. Once the trap was set and covered in leaves, he rose to go and set another trap when a snapping twig caught his attention. Moving on instinct, the combat knife flew to his hand and he readied himself for an attack. He was not prepared, however, for the frightened face and startled yelp of the girl who'd stupidly walked up from behind him.

In all honesty, Calcipher never expected that it would be a girl, especially one around his age, who would have snuck up on him. He suspected a Grimm, one of the other cadets, or even one of the instructors, but never did he think it would be a girl. She gazed back at him, icy blue eyes wide with terror as the combat knife maintained steady aim with her throat. Her long white hair, pulled back into a pony tail, was frazzled from the hat she'd worn a few minutes earlier and her pale skin showed she'd spent little to anytime outside. Even now, as her teeth chattered vigorously, it was difficult to determine if that was due to the cold or the threat of her life hanging in the balance. It took only a second for Calcipher to read all these signs and determine that she was little to no threat to himself and he replaced the knife back in its holster, earning a relived sigh from the girl. He turned back to the forest, skimming the tree line as he looked for other areas to set small traps, all the while hearing the girl crunching the leaves and twigs underfoot as she followed, much to his annoyance.

"Hey, you," she said, in an annoyed voice that mirrored his own mood at how well she was scarring off the game. "Hey, I'm talking to you."

"Then maybe you should use my name rather than _hey you_ ," he shot back, crouching to inspect a good spot before setting another trap.

"Then what is your name?" she asked in a huff.

"Calcipher," he answered flatly.

"Calcipher what?" she asked.

"Just Calcipher."

"Don't you have a last name?"

"Would it matter?" he asked.

She grumbled, obviously annoyed with his answer. She seemed to be annoyed by a lot of things.

"Do you want to know who I am?" she asked.

"Not really," he answered honestly, wanting more than anything for her to simply go away and leave him to his business.

She growled, finding his answer even worse than his previous ones. "Do you have any idea who I am?"

"Your Nicholas' daughter," he answered in a matter of fact tone.

"Y-yes," she said, momentarily surprised by his retort. "How did you know that?"

He glanced back at her with a flat expression as he pointed to his hair. She shot him a quizzical look before one of her stark white strands fell over her face, making it painfully obvious. "Oh, yes, of course," she said, her cheeks turning a slight pink from embarrassment. "I'm Katerina Schnee, by the way."

"Hmm," he said, hardly paying her any mind as he set his next trap.

"What are you doing anyway?" she asked, looking over his shoulder as he pushed some leaves over the trap to conceal it.

"I'm setting traps to catch food," he replied.

"Weren't you provided food?"

"You mean those field rations?" he asked.

Katerina nodded, cocking an eyebrow as she questioned his reasons for foraging when he already had enough.

"You ever eat a field ration before?" She shook her head. "Try one and you'll find yourself setting traps as well."

His answer, while not very distinctive, was enough to get the point across. She'd heard some of the men her father worked alongside voice their complaints in regards to the food they had to eat while on their expeditions. They were apparently a staple from the last war, one of the main innovations Mantle had created as a means of providing for their troops in a cost effective manner. Apparently they were meant to be edible for up to a hundred years or more, ensuring they'd always have food at the ready. Unfortunately, they hadn't done anything to improve the taste and, as a result, it was considered common sense that most troops would starve themselves to death rather than chock down whatever abomination had been packaged into their rations.

"What are you hoping to catch?"

"Squirrels mostly, though if I'm lucky I might be able to snag a rabbit or two," he replied, somehow coming off more relaxed in the conversation. Perhaps it was the topic?

"Why not try for something bigger?"

"Too much of a hassle," he replied.

"How so?"

"Squirrels and Rabbits will try to run rather than fight back. They're easy to catch and even easier to kill. Anything bigger, like a fox, would be too much of hassle because the bastards will try to bit and claw me to death as a means of escape."

Katerina flinched at his language and was even a little disturbed by easily and freely he used it. Granted, she'd heard just as abhorred language being used by her father on occasion and his friends but to hear a child her age use that same language without flinching was a bit disconcerting.

"Why are you out here, anyway? Shouldn't you be with your father or better yet sipping tea back at your mansion?" he asked offhandedly.

"Do I honestly look like the type of girl who would waste her days sipping tea while gossiping with her friends and having her servants wait on her hand and foot?" she glowered, crossing her arms under her nonexistent chest.

Calcipher took a moment to look her up down, cocking an eyebrow in retort. "When was the last time you actually went camping?" he asked.

"Uh…" she hesitated, her irritation quickly deflated once the more obvious aspects of her appearance were brought to light.

"I'm guessing this the first time you've ever been outside your house."

"I've been camping before," she said in an indignant manner.

"So you've actually pitched a tent, stacked firewood, and lite the fire?"

"Not me so much as the servants," she admitted sheepishly.

"Have you even slept on a sleeping roll before?"

"A what?"

Calcipher rolled his eyes, not at all surprised by her response and growing less and less impressed with her by the moment, not that she'd started out at all impressive to begin with. "Talk about pampered," he muttered.

"That's a lot to assume considering you don't know a thing about me. You hardly even knew I was Nicholas' daughter, let alone that he had a child," she shot back.

"Well then, _Miss Schnee,_ tell me, is there anything you can claim you did that didn't require the help of your servants," he asked, giving her name a slight drawl to illicit a reaction from her.

"Of course. I'll have you know I personally oversaw to the inventory of our supplies and making sure we not only had enough for our trip but that they were all in serviceable condition," she said proudly.

Her moment of pride was short lived, however, as Calcipher didn't seem at all impressed. Instead, he wore a flat expression that was quickly covered up as he pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation. "Dear gods," she heard him mumble, "you're completely useless." That comment alone was enough to set off her temper but before she could take it out on him he asked her, "why are you out here with your father then?"

"Huh?" she said, momentarily surprised by the question. "Oh, um, well, if you must know, I'm here to learn all the necessary skills I'll need to accompany him on his next expedition."

"Wait, hold on a minute, you want to go on a Dust expedition with him?"

"Of course," she replied.

Calcipher starred at her for a moment, his expression neither annoyed nor unimpressed, but something completely different. He seemed to be staring into, studying her, and, if she were to be honest, it was starting to make her feel uncomfortable. She squirmed under his gaze until he finally broke the awkward silence that had coalesced between them.

"Why?" he asked, the question simplistic but, as she already knew, encompassed a great deal more.

"I love my father a great deal," she said. "He's sacrificed much for my mother and I, long before I was ever born even. I was barely a toddler when he led his first expedition, one that he had no guarantee of succeeding, but he did so with the hope and belief that he would be able to give us a better life. He was successful, obviously, and has since then led several more to ensure that the life blood which now flows throughout Atlas, as well as our own home, continues to flourish.

My family's wealth has provided me many things but that doesn't mean it will always be there when I want it. My father is getting older and the weariness of each expedition is beginning to show, despite how he tries to hide the fact. That's why I'm out here. I want to join him on his next expeditions, learn as much as I can, so that when he does retire I can take over and continue his work for him."

Katerina kept her eyes glued to the frozen earth beneath her feet. She'd spoken of this desire on numerous occasions to her friends and adults alike, all to the same reaction. Her friends, the girls at least, thought her foolhardy. Why waste her time pursuing the same knowledge and skill her father had achieved when she could simply marry a man of notable birth, let him handle things, and spent the rest of her days in luxury? Leave the life of adventure to the barbaric machinations of soldiers and huntsmen. The adults were no different, albeit, their reaction fell more along the lines of finding her desires cute, her goals adorable but not something to be taken seriously. She was a child, after all, and all children must eventually grow up, their dreams along with them either to evolve into something more suitable or cast aside due to a lack of interest.

When she finally did look back at Calcipher it was due to the intense feeling of his gaze. The boy had stared at her for so long he was liable to burn holes into the side of her skull. Any longer and her head might begin to smoke. She expected the same uninterested, deadpan expression he'd worn the entirety of their time together. She expected him to blow it off, call her a child, and generally show little to no interest in her goals whatsoever. She expected him to act like so many others before. She hadn't expected him to act so different from what was expected, though.

His expression was, to be frank, quite different from the few he'd worn thus far. It was not unlike the quizzical look he'd given that made her feel like she was being studied by the boy but it certainly wasn't condescending, unempathic, or uninterested. On the contrary, he looked very interested in what she'd just said. His expression, having softened somewhat, had shifted. There was a warmth to it, a light of recognition that shown just a little in his eyes that she hadn't seen nor noticed before. If she didn't know any better she'd have said it felt like something akin to respect. The thought caused a trill of excitement to worm its way into her heart and she blushed slightly out of embarrassment. No one, aside from her father, had looked at her in such a way. No boy, for that matter, had ever seen her as anything less than a means to an end and she was only five. To have him, a child like herself, look at her in the same manner as her father, was quite pleasing to say the least.

"So, you came here to learn," he mussed, breaking the silence that had grown between them. "Is that why you were following me around?"

"Yes. I was curious about what you were doing," she freely admitted, though any hint of irritation she'd once had was absent from her tone.

"Why not ask your father or one of the other cadets? Why choose me?"

"My father is busy being entertained by some of the instructors. I'd be hard pressed to steel his attention away at any point during this exercise. As for the other boys, well…" her voice trailed off, recalling the galling manner in which they'd acted, "they were more interested in performing tasks _for_ me rather than _with_ me, if you catch my meaning."

"I think I do," he said, chuckling slightly and showing just a hint of a smile, the first she'd seen him wear. Their conversation was soon interrupted by the sharp sound of a twig snapping before a shrill squeak penetrated the air. Calcipher's head snapped immediately in the direction of the sound and Katerina recognized the direction from where it was coming. It was one of his earlier traps he'd set earlier which had proven successful. "Dinner," he said, moving towards the noise without a moment's hesitation.

"May I accompany you?" she asked quickly.

He stopped for a moment, looking back to regard her with that same quizzical expression as he looked her over. She stared back eagerly, hoping he would relent and say yes but all the while feeling bitter doubt beginning to pool in the pit of her stomach. She didn't know what he saw in her but, whatever it was, it was enough to convince him and he motioned for her to follow.

Katerina wasted little time catching up to him, following close as they came upon the trap which held a small rabbit by it's hind legs, the creature kicking with all its might as it attempted to break free but only managing to swing itself back and forth in the trap. Katerina felt a twinge of pity for the poor creature, something that was not shared by her companion. Calcipher took hold of it, holding its body firmly against his own with one hand while cupping a hand over its head with the other.

"Cover your ears and look away," he instructed.

"What are you going to do?"

"Snap its neck. It'll be quick and painless, a mercy kill," he replied coldly.

Katerina inhaled sharply, feeling tears beginning to form at the corners of her eyes, but forced them back. He starred at her with a hard expression, waiting for her to do as instructed so he could end the animal's life. She didn't, however, and kept her gaze firmly on the furry creature in his arms, the rabbit having gone still a moment earlier, as if it sensed its fate would engulf it soon.

"I'll be fine. I can handle this," she said in as brave a voice as she could manage.

Calcipher waited a few more seconds, a curtesy should she suddenly change her mind, before snapping his wrist in one swift motion and the rabbit's neck along with it. The sharp sound of it's neck breaking, while muffled against his clothes, reached Katerina's ears like the deafening clap of thunder. Its body lay limp, all life having left it in an instant. She felt nauseous and used all her will power to force the vomit that threatened to erupt all over the forest floor back down. She instead glanced up at Calcipher and was both pleased and surprised to see him gazing back at her with that same expression of respect, this time a bit more noticeable. Her feeling of nausea soon dissipated, replaced with a sense of pride at having earned such acknowledgement from a boy she hardly knew.

"Dinner," he said, holding the dead rabbit out by its ears.

"Dinner," she echoed back proudly.

/-/

The rabbit's tiny body glistened in the fire light as it was turned slowly over the flames that licked hungrily beneath it. The stick that had been shoved through its mouth and out the other end of its extremities had been long forgotten by Katerina once its glistening skin and alluring smell drew her attention, and that of her stomach, to how delicious it looked. Calcipher had proved quite adept in both making a fire, skinning the animal, and preparing it despite their field rations holding nothing more than salt and pepper as its more exotic spices. She'd enquired about where he'd learned to do such things and received a curt response about being taught by some of the instructors at the academy.

"So why don't the others do what you've done and hunt?" she'd asked.

"Laziness," he'd replied easily. "That and they're more content to choke down field rations than take the time to set traps that may or may not prove successful."

She couldn't fault that sort of logic. The fact that they'd caught anything at all was astounding and was certainly something the others had taken some offence to. As the night drew dark and cold, the smell of roast rabbit had wafted down to the various campsites below. Faces of angry and jealous young men illuminated by firelight starred up at them and while Calcipher had assumed it was due to their catch, Katerina knew that was only half true. The other half most likely had something to do with her presence and the fact that out of everyone she'd chosen someone who been exiled to the outskirts of the camp.

She'd been quite taken aback by how little he'd been provided by the instructors. Nearly everyone down below had been provided tents and bedrolls, ensuring they would have some comfort throughout the night. Calcipher, on the other hand, had little more than a blanket and a hole he'd dug for himself into the ground with a small ledge carved out for him to sit on and lean against the wall while he slept. Despite this he voiced no complaint for his situation, earning more respect and admiration from her in turn but also eliciting a small degree of curiosity that had her wondering how he could find so much comfort from so little. While she knew some of the more notable families in Atlas had sent their sons or daughters to the academy to be trained, she was also aware that most of the cadets had been overflow from the orphanages found throughout Mantle. There were even rumors, though not confirmed, that General Mordan had taken children off the street as a cheap and simple way to increase his numbers. She wondered where on that spectrum Calcipher landed but decided it was best not to ask.

"Here," he said, interrupting her thoughts. Katerina stared down at his combat knife which he'd used to carve off a piece of the rabbit's flesh.

Its browned skin glistened in the dim light and she could see steam rising from the meat itself. Despite herself, she felt her tongue drag itself across her lips as she took the meat and popped it into her mouth. To say Katerina had lived a pampered life was far from an understatement. With all the money her father made and the luxuries that came with it, she was privy to some of the most divine and gourmet dishes ever created throughout Remnant. Yet, here and now, they all paled in comparison to the taste of the juicy rabbit meat she'd just had and even now craved more of. It must have shown on her face as she glanced over at her host wearing a cocky though pleased expression of his own as he carved off a small piece for himself.

"It's good," she replied, attempting to keep her tone neutral and unbiased.

"Just good?" he asked.

"I could get used to it," she replied.

"You'll have to if you want to follow your father around on some expeditions," he pointed out.

"That's fine. I wouldn't be so arrogant as to assume I'd be able to take a troupe of gourmet chefs with me to cook each night," she admitted.

"Not for a lack of trying," he replied in a snarky manner.

"Shut up and carve me off another piece," she said with an amused smile.

They laughed good-naturedly, carving off pieces of the rabbit until there was nothing left but bones. Those Calcipher placed into a neat pile, stating he'd bury them out in the woods for other animals to dig up and eat while he kept the pelt for future use. There was apparently a class on turning animal skins into clothing and he wanted to try his hand at making some fur gloves. The chatter lulled into silence, with Katerina steeling glances at him from the corner of her eyes, too nervous to ask the questions that were gnawing at the back of her mind. To her surprise, it was Calcipher who broke the silence.

"I was a street rat," he said suddenly.

"I didn't ask," she replied defensively.

"No, but I could tell by your face you were dying to ask it."

"Sorry," she spoke in a quiet voice.

"Don't be," he said in a carefree tone. "I don't feel ashamed about it so neither should you."

"What about your parents?"

He shrugged, "dead, or so I've been told by the nuns."

"That's terrible."

"That's life," he said in retort. "Not everyone can be born into a life of luxury. You rolled the dice and won the jackpot. I rolled the dice and got diddly squat. Not much use in complaining. I could either accept my fate and move on or complain about it and watch as nothing changed. Its just the way life is."

"Still, don't you want to know if they're alive or not?"

"If they're alive then they're a couple of assholes who abandoned me. I'd have considered it my own form of revenge to have managed to survive this long on my own without them. If they're dead though, well, then they're dead. Not much use in complaining. Not like its going to change anything."

"That's just sad, though," she murmured.

"Yea, well, like I said, not all of us are born lucky. Some of us have to fight for our right to live in this world." Without waiting for a reply, he stomped out the last remaining embers of the fire, kicking some dirt onto it for good measure before hopping down into his foxhole. "I'm going to sleep. I suggest you do the same."

"Alright. Goodnight Calcipher," she said before heading down to her father's tent.

He didn't reply or watch her leave. Wrapped in her blanket and leaning against the wall, his eyes remained open as he stared up at the sky. He didn't know why Katerina's questions had bothered him so much. He'd wondered the same things a few times, usually at his darker moments of life, but they'd never had the same effect they'd had on him as she had. He tried to ignore it, closing his eyes as he willed himself to sleep to prepare for an early morning. It did not come easy and with it came dreams he never had of parents he never knew.

* * *

**Man, I took my sweet ass time getting this chapter out. To be honest, this one was more of a hassle for me to deal with in the beginning, but it grew on me more and more as it started to take on a life of its own.**

**I had actually meant for this to be a shorter chapter with the field exercise encompassing this one before moving on. To my pleasant surprise, My ideas have ensure that this portion of the story may continue forward for another chapter or two, giving us some development between Katerina and Calcipher. For those of you who've read my first instillation of this story you'll know these two have some history. I wanted to at least give them some more background to work with and develop their feelings, adding a bit more meat to the story.**

**Speaking of, we see Sapphira for the first time as well. I wanted to give her some screen time as well and will most likely see her in later chapters leading up to her eventual "partnership" with Calcipher. I won't give away too much but, needless to say, there are exciting things waiting to be put to the page and I can't wait to share them with you all.**


End file.
